Benigno Numine
by EtchedInDiamond
Summary: Alex Rider leads a normal life with the Pleasures in San Francisco, and the horrors of the life he previously led are confined in his nightmares. But he cannot avoid his past, and when dark powers threaten to send reality into oblivion, Alex Rider discovers that he must realize his destiny and save the world once more. Before the gods there was Chaos, and it is always waiting...
1. New Beginnings

**AN: Well, hello, there! I'm EtchedInDiamond fledgling author in this amazing site. This is my first Alex Rider/Percy Jackson and the Olympians crossover, so it might not be as great as others you've read. WARNING: Confusion is expected when reading this chapter, if one isn't really knowledgeable of both series. So, yeah, enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**Alex Rider and Percy Jackson and the Olympians do not belong to me. Unfortunately. **_

_BOOM! The car exploded in a fiery ruin._

_Alex flinched, as if he had been struck. His eyes widened, his pulse quickened, and every single fraction of his body froze to a near statue-like immobility. He felt a coarse hand clench his shoulder in mock-comfort._

"_I am terribly sorry, Alex," Razim whispered, his tone betraying his words. "Please, get hurt for me. My razims need to be calculated."_

_Jack. Oh, Jack. Why did you do it? The thoughts circled in his head in an infinite loop, dominating his field of focus and giving him an agonizing pain. No longer able to hold it, he let loose a tortured scream._

"_My," Razim remarked, his words dead and cold. "The emotional spectrum seems to be even more potent than physical pain. Interesting."_

"_I'LL KILL YOU!" Alex roared, twisting in his bound chair. "I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU DID TO HER!"_

"_Now, now, Alex," Razim replied, frowning at his prisoner's violent movements. "You might damage the equipment."_

"_FUCK YOU!" the boy spy cursed, spittle flying from his mouth and red eyes locked onto the Iraqi psychopath. "I WILL KILL YOU!"_

_Razim clucked his tongue disapprovingly. He checked his watch and frowned. "Oh. The assassination plans are just about ready to be executed. Goodbye, Alex Rider. It was a pleasure hurting you."_

_Rough hands clutched Alex's neck and pulled him back. He felt cold metal press against his sweaty temple. "Nighty night, Alex." His look-alike hissed, gripping him harder. "I've got a Secretary of State to kill."_

_He pulled the trigger._

Alex Rider opened his eyes.

The overhead fan circled above slowly, little waves of air caressing his face. He tentatively lifted his head and touched his cheeks. Fresh tears dampened them. Alex bit his lip. _Two years and you still cry over it like a baby, Alex_. He sighed, wiping his face and getting off the bed. A few minutes later, there was a squeak, and the sound of running water filled the room.

Alex relished the hot water, rubbing his body in slow circles. He opened his eyes, and for a terrifying moment, he saw his reflection staring back at him from the wet tiles. He froze, his hand almost reaching for a nonexistent gun resting in a nonexistent holster. Then, reality returned, and it was just his reflection, not the insane Julius Grief that had almost claimed his life.

The dream still haunted him. Of course, that wasn't the way it had played out in

real life, but his mind was always playing tricks on him since…the event. He shut the water off and climbed out of the shower, hastily drying his hair with a towel. Alex stopped at the wide mirror, looking at himself fully for the first time in a long time. Seventeen years old and he looked like a ten-year veteran. A smile tugged at his lips.

The messy blonde hair was longer, hanging a bit over his eyes. He swept it over self-consciously. Alex couldn't help but feel discomfort at the way his eyes looked: they melded with his brownish tan, but so…dead. He feigned a laugh, hoping the zombie-like stare would disappear. Stubbornly, it wouldn't go away. Sighing, he put on his clothes and left the room.

"Alex!" a cheery voice cried out.

He stubbed his toe on the door as he hastily closed it, repressing a string of colorful words from gushing out of his mouth. He turned, a bit irritated.

Sabina was looking up at him, her forehead creased and eyes brimming with worry. "Oh, I'm so sorry. Did you hurt yourself?"

"A little," Alex replied, secretly rubbing his toe against the floor to ease the throbbing pain. "Doesn't bother me, though. Good morning, Sabina."

"And to you as well," she answered, the smile back on. "Sleep well?"

"It was good," he lied. "Better than usual."

"Great!' she exclaimed.

They stood in the hallway, both unsure of what to say. Sabina twirled a finger around her long dark hair, staring at the floor awkwardly. Alex silently touched her face, locking gazes with her bright blue eyes.

He pecked her lips. "Trust me, Sabina. I'm fine."

Her tense worry melted, and she pulled Alex in for a deep hug. "I'm sorry I'm treating you like this," she whispered against his chest. "I just don't know if you've fully…you know…recovered." She said the last word with heavy reluctance.

Alex tried a smile. "I'm recovered, Dr. Pleasure. Now, may your patient eat his breakfast now?"

Sabina chuckled, her regular demeanor back. "Of course, Mr. Rider. You _are_ a part of this family now, aren't you?"

"Breakfast's ready, you two lovebirds!" someone called from downstairs. "Hurry up or it'll get cold!"

"Coming, mum!" she replied. Sabina tugged on his arm as she practically flew down the flight of steps. Alex tried his best to catch up, smiling warmly as he did.

"Excited for the first day of school, aren't you?" he inquired teasingly.

"You bet I am. Plus, you're coming with me. How can this day get any better?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

They pulled into the carpool zone. Mr. Pleasure leaned over and kissed his daughter on the cheek. "Have a nice day at school, sweetheart." He gripped hands with Alex, a proud expression on his face. "You too, son. Try to enjoy it. You'll meet new people, new friends. You can start over."

Alex grinned back. Edward Pleasure was beginning to feel like a father to him now. The father he, sadly, never had. "Thank you, Mr. Pleasure. Have a nice day."

"You too, son. Good luck to the both of you!"

He drove away.

Sabina took a deep breath and laced fingers with a nervous Alex. "Trust me, Alex. You'll enjoy it here. The people are very nice."

"I trust you, Sabina." Alex exhaled, feeling more anxiety over his first day in an American school than he had being apprehended at gunpoint. "I trust you."

They walked together, hand-in-hand, into the gates of John W. Geary High School.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Good morning, students," the plump woman in a very tight dress announced, her sausage-like fingers resting on her ample stomach. "I trust you all had an amazing summer vacation." There was a chaotic chorus of yells and sounds. The woman's eyes darted around the class, obviously not understanding a word anyone said.

Alex sat near the front of the room, casually observing the classroom as a foreigner. The walls were bright and colorful, covered with corny history posters and decorations. The desks were filed in neat, orderly rows, but by the time the students entered, they were literally everywhere. Some were sitting on top of them, chewing gum and laughing with friends. This wasn't like any school in England, he was sure of that.

"Well, my name is Mrs. Grant," she explained, a dimply smile on her pale face. "And I'm beginning to think this class will be a bit problematic."

The students laughed, well, excluding a very confused Alex Rider. Mrs. Grant finished guffawing and spread her arms. "I think it's time for introductions."

Everyone groaned, and this time Alex joined in with the rest of them. Someone yelled "This isn't elementary school!" in the back. Great. A chance to embarrass himself. Mrs. Grant gestured to the first person on the first row, to the right. The boy was sitting two tables in front of Alex. The first boy stood up, a confident smile on his face.

"I'm Hunter Reese," he said, his green eyes droopy as if he had just woken up. A hand went over and swept his black hair back. _Arrogant type, I see_, Alex mused. "I'm seventeen." He looked over to Mrs. Grant.

"Tell us something interesting about yourself," she offered, her way-too-excited smile plastered onto her face.

Hunter rolled his eyes, as if he didn't enjoy presenting himself in front of other people. "Fine. I play varsity soccer here, if you guys didn't know."

A few of the girls giggled. Hunter smiled, a slow smile, the one that took ages to come around because the person was too self-absorbed to care. He sat down, stretching so the girls could ogle at his muscular body encased in a black shirt with the polo logo on his chest. Mrs. Grant smiled.

"Thank you, Hunter. Next?"

The girl sitting in front of Alex stood. She flashed a smile at the class, her immaculate white teeth reflecting the glare of the sun. "I'm Cara Buchanan, age seventeen." She fiddled with her designer jacket, eyes scrunching up as she figured out what to say. "Uh, I'm going to audition for a movie soon. Well, after I compete in my horse riding competition and finish my modeling schedule."

Mrs. Grant clapped her hands excitedly. "Oh, very nice! I hope it turns out well!"

Cara sat back down in her seat, playing with her brown-blonde hair. Hunter turned in his seat to smile at her. She smiled back, reveling in the attention.

Mrs. Grant's eyes, to Alex's horror, fixated on him. "Your turn."

Alex stood up, face burning. Everyone turned to look at him, and the room hushed. He swallowed nervously.

"Your name, please." Mrs. Grant remarked,

A few people giggled in the back. Cara was looking up at him, a weird smile on her face. Like he was some sort of antelope and she was the lion. Hunter frowned and stared at Alex.

"Er, my name is Alex, Alex Rider, and I'm seventeen." There was fierce whispering when he spoke. "And, uh, as you can tell, I'm British."

There was laughter. Mrs. Grant frowned. "Well, of course we know that, now that you've spoke. Tell us something else, something interesting."

_Well, Mrs. Grant, when I was fourteen, my uncle, who happened to be a spy working for MI6, was killed by a Russian contract killer. MI6 picked me up, made me a spy, and I then started to take down the world's most evil villains, all in about two years. Interesting enough for you?_

"Uh…I like hot dogs?"

The class erupted in laughter. Alex sat down awkwardly, blushing. Bloody hell, why was he acting like this? He faced people like Damian Cray, Abdul-Aziz Al-Rahim, and Major Winston Yu without acting like a complete sod. Why did it have to happen now?

The introductions grinded on. He almost fell asleep when he felt a tap on his shoulder. Cara was smiling down at him, the same predatory expression on her tanned face.

"You're new here, aren't you?" she asked. She was chewing gum and making it not hard to notice. Her glossy lips went up and down as she bit on the gum. "I haven't seen you here before."

"Yeah," he replied. "I didn't go to school for a while, so I just got in now."

"Oh, that's cool," she said, her blue eyes saying she honestly didn't really care. "Are you single?"

Alex flustered, taken aback. "Er, um, what, er, what did you say?"

"Ease up, bro," Hunter said, leaning over to him. "You turn her on."

"Shut up, Hunter," she said, turning back around. "Get out of my space, _bro_."

Hunter laughed, and he reached a hand over to Alex. He hesitantly shook it. "You're British, right? You play soccer?"

"You're so stupid, Hunter," Cara practically spat. "They call it football in Britain." She smiled perkily at Alex. "Right?"

"Uh, yes, we do."

"You for Manchester U?"

"Uh, well, I'm not a big fan, but I think they-"

"I agree. They suck balls. Arsenal all the way, man. Well, in England, anyways. Internationally, it's got to be Barcelona."

Mrs. Grant stalked over and slammed her hand down on Hunter's desk. "Quiet down, Mr. Reese! Last introduction, and we're finished." She turned to the front desk on the left side. "Go on!"

A small kid with bushy hair stood up, blushing so much Alex thought his head would explode. Large sideburns ran down the boy's temple. He pushed his glasses up his nose with shaking fingers.

"H-Hi, my n-name is Arnold Zuckerman. I-I'm seventeen, and I like tin c-cans."

Hunter snorted, his face buried in his hands. His body was shaking violently, and he kept repeating tin cans under his breath like it was the funniest thing in the world. Cara stared at Arnold as if he was something the plumber pulled out of a clogged toilet. Mrs. Grant fixed the laughing class a stern look and smiled soothingly at Arnold.

"I like tin cans too, sweetie," she said.

"Now, class," Mrs. Grant said, rubbing her palms together. "Time to issue books. Frank, could you be a dear and hand me that sheet of paper on my desk…?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

'What…what is it?" Alex asked, staring at the revolting pile of mush on his tray.

"Beans, bro," Hunter said, sticking a spoon filled with the stuff into his mouth. "They're good. Give you extra fuel for the field." His friends laughed, high-fiving him excitedly.

Sabina was not in any of his classes, sadly. Alex had been hoping she would at least be in his lunch period, but unfortunately, life wasn't perfect. He had to settle with Mr. Idiot and his posse of meatheads instead. He sighed, playing with the…beans…with a fork.

Hunter nudged him in the ribs. "Check it out, bro. The chicks are totally diggin' you."

Alex turned his head a fraction to see a table filled with girls, including Cara, staring at him and giggling amongst each other. He even saw one daring redhead pop a picture on her iPhone. Alex blushed and turned away.

"Shit, man, you lucky as hell," a big guy named Delonte remarked. "Damn, how many girls you get?"

"Uh," Alex thought it over. "Not many, really. I really spent more time with guys than girls, honestly." He knew the second the words flew out of his mouth that they would get it _totally_ wrong.

Hunter shifted uncomfortably next to him. "So, does that mean you're…?"

"NO!" he exclaimed, a bit too loudly. He quieted down. "No, I'm not. I have a girl already, is all."

There was a collective "aaaah". Hunter nodded, approving. "Cool. But, you're not going to just stick with her, right? I mean, this school's got plenty of tail, so you know-"

"I'm fine," Alex cut in, slightly mad that he would imply such a thing. "I love her."

Hunter grinned, smacking him on the back. "Looks like we've got a little Romeo here, gentlemen. So, who's the lucky Juliet?"

"She's been going to this school for a while now. Do you know a Sabina Pleasure?"

The table suddenly fell silent. Delonte's eyes widened and he scooted away from Hunter and Alex. The other boys looked down at the table, unsure of what to do. Hunter's face darkened.

"Sabina, huh," he replied, ripping open a granola bar, his eyes never resting on Alex. "She's your girlfriend."

Alex realized that he had done something utterly wrong. "Well, I guess so. We've been in a relationship for a while now."

Hunter was quiet for a while. "Huh. I see."

The bell rang, and the student body rose as one and rushed to the halls. Hunter gathered his things and left without a word. Alex frowned.

"Did I say something wrong?" Alex said.

"Hell yeah!" Delonte snorted, and left.

"Hunter's been after Sabina for a long time," another boy said, a tall fellow with short blonde hair. "He's had his eye on her ever since she moved to San Fran. She always rejected him, though. Guess we all know why now." He gripped Alex's shoulder. "Watch out, man. Hunter ain't the forgiving type. He'll probably be after you."

Alex's gaze hardened as he watched Hunter walk out of the cafeteria. "Yeah, well, he isn't anything I can't handle."

The boy frowned. "You're new here, so you probably don't know about the Bay fight. Some senior from St. Assisi pissed him off at the wharf last year. He was varsity football, big, tough, over six feet. Hunter beat the shit out of him."

Alex shrugged. "Like I said, nothing I can't handle."

The boy smiled. "I like you. Fearless. Confident. Alex, right?" He extended a hand.

"Yes," Alex said, smiling. "You are…?"

"Will," the boy answered. For a moment, Alex thought his face started to glow, like the sun. "Will Solace. Stick with me, I can teach you a few things."

"Alright, I will."

They walked out of the cafeteria.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Alex plopped down onto his bed, throwing his bag to the floor in extreme weariness. He heard a knock on the door. "It's Sabina. Can I come in?"

"Sure," Alex said. The image of a very angry Hunter was stuck in his mind.

Sabina walked in, looking absolutely stunning in a light blouse and skirt. Her dark hair was wavy, like a waterfall. She smiled and sat down next to Alex, playing with his hair.

"How was your first day?"she asked quietly.

"All right," he replied with a sigh. "Could've been better. All the girls kept fawning over me, and I had no choice but to satisfy their needs."

Sabina chuckled, always a fan of dirty jokes. "Oh, you Casanova, you. Can't control yourself, can you?"

"I'm afraid not."

Sabina laughed once again, the sound like Mozart to Alex's ears.

"Hey, Sabina," he asked tentatively.

"Yes, Alex?" she said absently, busy fiddling with Alex's long blonde hair.

"Do you happen to know anyone by the name of, uh, Hunter Reese?"

The fingers stopped. Alex could feel Sabina tense beside him. He turned to face her. "Well, do you?"

Sabina bit her bottom lip. "Yes, I do. And if you heard any awful rumors about me and him don't believe them, because they're lies and they're totally-"

Alex put a finger on her lips. He grinned. "I know, Sabina. I know. Don't get too worried. I heard that he was after you, that's all."

Sabina made a disgusted sound in her throat, and he frowned. "He's a total jerk. He thinks he's all that just because he's in varsity football. I mean, soccer. He isn't ugly, but he's terrible in every other way possible."

She embraced Alex, sighing deeply. "Alex, you know I'm yours."

Alex smiled and hugged her against his torso. "I know, Sabina. I know."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**MI6 Headquarters**

**London, Great Britain, UK**

The room exuded an aura of Spartan efficiency. From the books stacked neatly on the gray bookshelves to the purple carpet on the floor, nothing was out of place. Not even the woman sitting behind the gray desk showed any error.

Mrs. Jones carefully filed the stack of papers into a blank manila folder, opening a drawer and inserting it inside with a clank. She sniffed, clearing out any particles of dust or grime from the polished surface of the desk. Adjusting her hair, which was tied neatly into a bun, and fiddling with her suit, she finally got herself ready.

"You may come in," she announced.

The door opened, and a suited man with close-cropped black hair walked in. At the sight of the Head of MI6 Special Operations, he inhaled through his teeth and adjusted his loose tie.

"Mrs. Jones," he said.

"Crawley," she replied. Her eyes narrowed from behind clean spectacles. "You're supposed to be in Surrey. Is the operation over?"

"No, ma'am. I was sent back 'ere to fetch some paperwork when the boys in SI found something." He hefted a folder in his hands. "I think you're going to want to see this, ma'am."

Mrs. Jones' eyes narrowed even more. She extended her hand, and Crawley handed her the folder. She opened it, perusing its contents.

Her eyes progressively got wider as she flipped through the pages. Crawley cringed, as if she were to explode any moment. Mrs. Jones exhaled through her nose. She locked eyes with Crawley.

"When did they find the body?" she asked.

"Just two hours ago, ma'am. Picked 'im up off the Thames. It was sent directly to our morgue, ma'am."

"Good," she whispered. "Very good. God help us if it ended up in the wrong hands."

She stared at the broken, bloody body of a man. Well, it would've passed off for a man if it weren't for the hundreds of mangled eye sockets covering the entirety of its body.

Crawley swayed where he stood, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down like a broken elevator. Mrs. Jones glared at him.

"What is it? Is there more?"

"Y-Yes, ma'am," he replied, licking his dry lips. "We got a call not too long ago. A call from America."

Mrs. Jones could not help but think of a certain boy when that country was brought up. She leaned in. "Yes?"

"He wants to speak with you, Mrs. Jones." Crawley said, his eyes filled with fright.

"Who?" she pressed. "Who wants to speak with me?"

"Mr. Brunner, ma'am." Crawley visibly gulped. "Mr. Brunner wants to speak with you."

Mrs. Jones' face instantly paled. Her hands quivered for a split second. She swallowed nervously. "Very well, then," she managed to say as she stood up and smoothed her skirt. "By all means, let me and…Mr. Brunner…speak."

She followed Crawley out of her office. Mr. Brunner. The only individual that scared Sir Alan Blunt out of his wits. A sheet of sweat ran down Mrs. Jones face as she picked up the phone.

"Yes, Mr. Brunner?"

"_Mrs. Jones,_" a deep voice rumbled from the other end. A voice that exuded authority, power, and…something else. "_We need to talk._"

**AN: I hope this suffices as a cliffhanger. Anyways, thanks for reading, (if you're confused, don't feel bad, all will be revealed later on) and please R&R. To those of you reading my other unfinished stories: I'M SORRY! I can't help it! I have a tendency to start other stories.**

**FOREVER REMAIN ETCHED IN DIAMOND**


	2. Confrontations

**AN: Hey, guys! I know it's a fast update, but don't expect it in later chapters. I don't get inspirations like these every day. If it seems rushed, I apologize. I want things to get snapping so the juicy parts can start. Anyways, thanks to all those reviewers (you guys are awesome!), and I hope you enjoy.**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**I do not own Percy Jackson and the Olympians or Alex Rider. I only own those of my own creation. Any similarity to real characters are merely coincidental. Yeah.**_

Alex slammed his locker door shut, the sound near-abrasive to his tender eardrums. He sighed and rubbed his face, taking care to massage the bleary eyes that spent five hours staring up at a blank ceiling instead of getting a good night's rest. The nightmare had returned more graphic than before. Alex had awoken after midnight to the pounding of his heart melding with the all-too familiar shots of a pistol.

He slowly walked down the hall, constantly blinking to erase the pain. He caught more than a few odd stares, but being the school oddity for a day was the least of his worries. Well. For the moment, at least.

He walked into history just as the bell rang, drawing a sharp glare from Mrs. Grant.

"Mr. Rider," she drawled, leaning back comfortably in her cushioned swivel chair. "Take care to arrive to class earlier. We don't want any penalties in the first few days here, now, do we?"

"No, Mrs. Grant," he gritted through clenched teeth. Alex dropped his things on the floor and practically fell onto his desk, cradling his head in his hands. The plump teacher, now in a light blue dress that once again succeeded in showcasing her girth, gave him a worried look. She tore her eyes away from Alex and addressed the class.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she announced. The room fell silent after a while. "Thank you. Now, as you all now, this is an _honors_ class, so even though this is the second day of school, don't expect to not have work."

There was a collective groan, and Alex slowly banged his head against the desk. _Brilliant. More work for my poor brain_. He lifted his head a fraction and discovered Hunter staring at him with a dangerous expression. _Plus, David Beckham wannabe's out to get me. Can this day get any better?_

"How about a pop refreshment quiz, people?" Mrs. Grant exclaimed, her cheery smile stamped onto her pale face.

_Kill me now._

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Apparently, taking honors US history straight out of a British education had been a terrible mistake. He very reluctantly handed his paper to a preppy Cara, who smiled at him eerily as she absently grabbed the paper. Well, after failing to merely touch it two or three times. What the heck was the Boston Tea Party? _Something to do with taxes and angry Indians_, he remembered from an old lesson in his former school.

"How'd it go?" Mrs. Grant asked cheerily when all the quizzes were collected.

A blast of complaint and disapproval met her head-on. Alex swore she actually flinched. The obese teacher fidgeted uncomfortably, her thin eyebrows furrowing into a hairy spot on her forehead.

"Did you at least get the first question right?" she asked pointedly.

Everyone yelled "George Washington!" at the same time. Alex groaned. _Huh. So it wasn't Abraham Lincoln…_ Mrs. Grant nodded approvingly.

Her face shifted into a mask of euphoric rapture, her eyes seeming to fade into a dreamland of history and primary documents galore. "Isn't it so amazing how the son of a slave-owner and his second wife would help bring forth the freest nation in the world?"

Someone snickered. Mrs. Grant's head veered instantly to the source, an expression of supreme indignity on her toad-like face. "Mr. Zuckerman!" she cried hoarsely. "How _dare_ you ridicule such an important man in American history?"

"Yeah, tin cans!" Hunter added in mockingly.

The boy realized the accusation, blushing as he stammered out a defense. "N-No, Mrs. Grant, I wasn't laughing about that. It was just G-George Washington's dad wasn't-"

He stopped, choking on the last word. He clamped two hands over his open mouth and fell completely silent. Confusion replaced Mrs. Grant's fury.

"Now that that's over with," she said after a while. The teacher went to her desk and hefted a stack of papers. "We can officially start the unit. Frank, could you do me a favor and pass out the syllabuses? Oh, thank you sweetie, you're such a good boy..."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Is he still staring at me?" Alex asked quietly, taking an uninterested bite into his sandwich.

Will pretended to stretch. He moved back down, opening his chocolate bar. "Yup. Hunter can't take his eyes off of you, man. Girls _and_ guys seem to take a liking to-!" Alex kicked him under the table. His new friend laughed, a mouthful of chocolate coating his bright teeth.

They were seated in a different table, one of many atop a raised platform ringed with brick steps. They were well out of range for Hunter and his cronies to lob scraps of food at them, but the danger was present. When Alex had inquired as to why Will sided with him, he merely shrugged. "I never like the douche bag anyways," he responded plainly.

"How's school coming along for you?" Solace asked. "I mean, this is your first American school."

"Not too bad," Alex responded with a sigh. "Disregarding obsessive varsity soccer idiots, I think this place suits me fine. When I get accustomed to the curriculum, I think I can pass."

"Great," Will replied with a very sunny smile. His expression tensed as he spied something behind Alex's back. Alex frowned and turned. Arnold, who was trying to hide behind a trash can, furtively snuck away, his back hunched. The former spy's frown deepened. He looked to Will.

"What was that about?" he asked.

Will was staring at Alex curiously. "Nothing," he said after a while. "It's nothing. Hey, is that fish and chips? Dude, you need to give me some, I've been wanting to try those _forever_…"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Mr. Rider!" the burly coach in the red cap yelled, his voice raised to a volume louder than necessary. "Come here!"

Alex got up obediently, leaving the twenty-or-so gasping juniors where they lay in complete exhaustion. He stood in front of the gym teacher, his hands folded across his back. "Yes, Mr. Haynes?"

"Non-stop calisthenics for forty minutes and you've hardly broken a sweat, kid," the coach remarked. His hot breath blasted against Alex's face. He smelled fresh garlic and cloves, mixed with trace amounts of tobacco. _Interesting. A school teacher ingesting narcotics on the job. _Alex kept silent about the drugs and merely nodded. A smile crept onto Mr. Haynes' red, blocky face, and he folded his huge arms over his barrel chest. "You need to get into some team sports, my British friend. How's soccer sound for you?"

_And be with Hunter? No thank you._ "I'd rather not, sir."

"C'mon. How about football? I see a star receiver in you, Mr. Rider."

"Not my sport, sir."

"Tennis?"

"Mr. Haynes, I don't think I have any time to participate in competitive sports this year. I need to adjust to the curriculum and obtain credits. I'm sorry, sir, but I'll consider."

A vein popped on Mr. Haynes' blotchy forehead. He exhaled noisily through his nose, and he stared at Alex with a much darker gaze. "Fine. Get to the lockers. I hope you consider well."

Alex nodded and jogged back to the odorous locker room. _Another potential enemy, Alex. This time it's a teacher. You really can't stop, can you?_ Covering his mouth and nose with a rag, he quickly opened his locker and retrieved his clothes. As he was changing, he felt a tap on his shoulder.

"What?" he exclaimed, jolted by the contact.

Arnold Zuckerman leaned in conspiratorially. "Hey, you look strong. You're seventeen, right?"

"Yes. Could you please back off a little," Alex asked as politely as he could. "I don't have my pants on yet."

Arnold looked down, and he immediately snapped his head up when he realized what he was doing would only knock him more rungs down the social ladder of John W. Geary. He blushed furiously and stumbled back.

"S-Sorry!" he stammered, disappearing into the throng of sweaty teenage boys.

Alex, terribly confused and a bit creeped out, finished pulling on his clothes. He left the lockers just as the bell signaling the end of school rang.

At his locker, he felt another tap on his shoulder. Horrified that it might be Arnold again, he slowly turned his head, ready to rebuff and/or knock the strange boy out. Sabina smiled up at him, her blue eyes sparkling with joy.

He embraced her rapidly, nuzzling his face into the crook of her shoulder. Alex relished in the smell of her hair and perfume: orange blossoms and wet-smelling irises infused with a myriad of other amazing smells. He wished he could just stand there the whole day taking her in.

"How was your second day?" she asked in a low voice, her arms draped around his back.

"Better," he whispered. "Now that you're here."

"Sabina!" a familiar voice called.

Alex tensed. He swallowed and bit his tongue as Hunter Reese appeared out of the stream of rushing students and stopped beside them. Alex's fists shook, but he nodded. "Hunter," he replied. "How are you?"

"Great, great," Hunter replied. He was dressed in a blue cardigan over a white tee, with expensive jeans to top it off. He locked his green eyes on Sabina, who was staring down at the tiled floor uncomfortably, hands playing with the hem of her yellow sundress. "Hi, Sabina. You look great today."

"Thank you, Hunter," she answered courteously. "Do you need something from us?"

Hunter laughed. He shook his head. "No, no. Alex here just told me you guys were together. Is it true?"

He looked at Sabina expectantly, a small glimmer of hope displayed on his face.

Sabina nodded proudly. "Yes, Hunter, it's true."

Alex could tell he had hoped, futilely, but hoped all the same, that her answer would've been 'no'. Crestfallen, he continued to look at Sabina, as if expecting her to push Alex away and accept all the proposal and wooing he had given. She didn't blink. _Ouch_, Alex thought, satisfaction thrusting his chest out a fraction. _How's your pride, Hunter? Did the sting hurt too badly?_ The dejectedness fell away from Hunter's face, replaced by ice-cold fury and hatred. He glared at Alex and walked away.

Sabina let out her breath. "Oh my God, I haven't been so scared in a long time."

Alex held her hand. "I'm here, Sabina. Don't worry. Hunter can't get you."

They hugged once more and left.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Are you _completely _sure?" Will asked urgently, watching as Alex and Sabina got into a black Sedan. He stood behind the bike rack, feeling a sense of dread and confusion enter his blood. "We need to be completely sure before we can make a move."

Arnold paced back and forth, his hands nervously running through his bushy fro. "I-I don't know for sure. His scent was so peculiar, so alike and unlike from the regular odor. His aura is…strange."

Will whirled and gripped his friend's shoulders in frustration. "You need to be _sure_, Arnold. I don't want any mistakes. Not this time. This is only our second school and you've managed to nearly screw up the operation."

Arnold flushed and he shook his head. "I-I'll be sure, Will. Trust m-me."

Will released him, placing his hands on his hips and watching the car drive away. "I trust you, Arnold. I always have." He turned back to him, a frown on his lips. "You might want to get rid of that stutter."

Arnold flashed a rare smile. "It's a part of the cover, Will. Chiron always said-"

Will quickly shushed him. "Don't fricking say that name ever again!" He lowered his voice. "You don't know who might be watching." He lowered his voice even more, his voice taking on a cautious tone. "You know where we are."

In the distance, one with very good eyesight could see the dark outline of a mountain in the backdrop of San Francisco.

Arnold's eyes widened and he looked around his shoulders fearfully. "O-Oh yeah. Sorry about that, Will."

He sighed exasperatedly and shook his head again. "Whatever, man. Just don't do it again. You know the big guy; he hates it when bad things happen."

Arnold nodded, his face pale. "Yeah." He faced Will. "Anyway, we need to f-find out more about Alex. Any ideas?"

Will smiled, his eyes shimmering with a mischief uncommon for his lineage. "Yeah, actually, I do. You still have your tech skills, right?"

Arnold mirrored his smile. "Of c-course. You have anything in mind?"

"I do. Here's what we'll do…"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**Saturday, 11:31 AM**

Coldplay's Paradise began to play, his phone vibrating, and jerking Alex's head up from his grueling schoolwork.

His room, formerly his realm of quiet solitude and long hours of self-reflection, was now a harsh dominion of US history, calculus, AP English, and other schoolwork all rolled into one. Studying was now his top priority. _Saving the world is in the past, Alex. It's studying and college for the rest of your young life_. He sighed and put his phone to his ear.

"Hello?" he asked, his voice raspy from hours of voluntary silence.

"Hey, Alex! It's me, Will!"

Alex frowned. "Will? How did you get my number?"

"Uh…a friend of a friend told me."

"Will, I don't have any friends besides you," Alex reminded slowly, starting to grow very worried.

"Never mind! Anyways, I was wondering if you'd like to hang out today. You know, just talk."

Alex's frown deepened. "Uh, I'm a little busy here, Will."

"Oh, come on. I'm sure you could spare, like, thirty minutes or something. Trust me, it'll be short. It's just a talk."

Alex sighed. He leaned back in his chair and stretched until his bones cracked. He stared blankly at the pile of papers on his cluttered desk. He looked at the window, where rays of golden light were streaming in from half-opened blinds, dust motes floating lazily in the brilliance. He shrugged. "Fine. I need a breather, anyways. Where should we meet?"

"I knew you'd come around. Come to the creek, by Sandman Avenue."

"Where's that…?"

"Sabina knows. Hurry!"

The line on the other end went dead. Alex rubbed his weary eyes and lifted himself off the chair, groaning as he did so. He really needed to take a walk. "Sabina!' he yelled as he opened the door. "Where's Sandman Avenue? And do you happen to know of a damned creek?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Alex paused his jog, breathing in and out as he read the faded black letters on the old sign: _Sandman Creek. Beware of wild tomcats._ He pursed his lips at the warning. _Wild tomcats?_ Shrugging, he crossed the arched entrance, entering a dirt path that lead to the creek. It was a pleasant sight: clear, pristine water bubbling down and under a wooden bridge into obscurity. A few kids were playing on its banks, throwing rocks and pushing each other playfully near the water.

"Alex!" he heard someone cry. "Over here!"

He turned and saw Will sitting cross-legged near the water's edge, wearing a gray hoodie and a red cap. Again, Alex couldn't help but notice how bright he looked. It was like he was his radiating his own light apart from the noonday sun. He went over to his friend and sat beside him. Will looked him up and down.

"You look so…military," he observed. "You the army type?"

Alex chuckled. "No. The attire is just something I've grown accustomed to." He was dressed in a black shirt over camouflaged pants. He hadn't even realized he was dressed that way half-way during the jog. "It's comfortable."

Will was gazing at him intently, like he was trying to see past Alex's physical body and somehow delve inside him. "Hm. Interesting. Alex, I know this is going to sound weird, but are you dyslexic?"

Alex was a little taken aback. "I know I haven't doing well in school, but it's just my first week, and I've never had an American-"

Will quickly stopped him. "I didn't mean it that way."

Alex found himself frowning again. "No, I've never had dyslexia in my life."

"Huh. ADHD?"

"Uh, no."

Will furrowed his brows and looked at the creek, deep in thought. Alex fell silent, sitting awkwardly next to his new friend, who was just now acting very weird. Just as he was about to speak up, Will locked his blue eyes on him.

"Do you have parents?" he asked.

Alex felt as if someone had punched him in the gut. He froze, his breath hitching in his throat."W-What?" he croaked.

"Do you have parents?" Will repeated, his tone very serious.

"N-No," he stammered in reply. "They died in a plane crash when I was little. Will, why are you asking me these-?"

"Did you have full knowledge of what your parents did? Who they were?"

_John Rider. He was our best, better than his brother, Ian. That man could do literally do anything. So many missions, so many successes. Only Scorpia could take him down, and that was after he had managed to dupe their craftiest of agents. After all, he was a part of MI6, wasn't he?_

Alec stood up, a cold sweat running down his back. So many memories. So many nightmares. His parents. He stared down at Will with very wide eyes. "I have no idea why you're asking me these questions, but I'm done. Bye, Will."

Will stood, reaching out to grip Alex's shoulder as he walked away. "Look, Alex, I didn't mean to be so abrupt. This is important, trust me, and it's for the benefit of us both."

"Look who it is! Alex Rider and his faggoty friend!"

Will shut his eyes. "Gods, why does it have to be now?" he whispered through clenched teeth.

Hunter Reese and four of his friends, including Delonte, casually paced down the creek bank. Hunter had on a red shirt, a deep red outlined with black at the edges, and a smile on his charming face. Alex stopped, his fists quaking at his sides.

"What's up, Alex?" Hunter asked. "How's Sabina?"

"Fuck off, Hunter," Will growled, coming up beside a silent Alex.

Delonte and the others moaned out an 'oooohhh" at the harsh words. Hunter's face turned glacial cold. His green eyes hardened into icy chips. "Get the hell out of the way, Solace. This is between me and him. Go back and hang out with your dorky friend, Mr. Tin Cans."

The posse laughed boisterously. Will's lips curled, and he balled his hands into fists. "What'd you say about Arnold?"

"Will," Alex finally said, his voice composed and back to normal. The red burning in his eyes, however, told a different story. "Let's go. We don't need to start a fight."

"So you're backing down, Rider?" Hunter taunted, jutting his chin condescendingly at the retreating pair. "You're too afraid to fight me, you little prick? Sabina was fucking _mine_, Alex! Why don't you go back to Britain and cry to your little…fucking…mommy?"

Alex froze.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

His fist went sailing towards Hunter's still grinning face faster than the eye could blink. It crashed into his nose, sending the boy sprawling.

_"Put your body into it, Cub," Wolf snarled. "You think your enemy's gonna react to that weak-ass punch? Harder, little Cub, harder!"_

Delonte had anticipated the move, and was already spitting obscenities at Alex and heading for him full-on. He was a first-string linebacker for the varsity team, 6'6 and two-hundred forty pounds of pure muscle. Alex, however, was faster.

_"For someone like you, you're going to find yourself fighting bigger people, stronger people," Wolf cautioned. "Don't back down. There's always an advantage. Usually, you're gonna be faster. Let them charge in like a bull, and redirect their momentum. Add a kick in for fun."_

Alex moved to the side, placing his hands on Delonte's broad back and pushing with all his might. The big guy yelped, his momentum going beyond his control He went careening into the creek with a giant splash. The other three juniors, a bit slow on the reaction, started to move, their faces contorted into expressions of red-hot anger. One of them, a short dark-skinned kid in a purple v-neck, launched a ferocious haymaker.

_"When you counter a punch, Cub," Wolf snarled, picking the miserable fourteen-year-old boy off the mud and pushing him roughly. "Don't take it head on and try to run away. It's all about movement, son, the _right_ movement. Don't give your opponent time to even think of punching you again. React. Dominate. Win."_

Alex caught the boy's fist and twisted. His eyes narrowed in pain and he cried out. Alex's fist jabbed towards his face once, twice. Hunter's friend slumped to the ground, unconscious. The last two charged simultaneously, their head up and arms pumping unprofessionally, the only thing in their immature minds vengeance.

"_It's all about how fast you move, Cub. When two or more sorry chaps are coming at you, you need to move, move _fast_. I will show you a series of moves that you need to remember in a fight. Put your hands up, Alex, you don't know the meaning of tiredness yet. Good. Now, raise your fist and- _

-punch. The first one, a boy about his height with a platinum mohawk, stumbled back, blood spurting from his cracked nose. Alex whirled, dodging the other's, a tall kid with a buzz cut, poorly-aimed punch, leaning down and sending a fist to his solar plexus. The boy bent over, his face clenched and purple. Alex straightened his hand and chopped into the kid's side. He fell over, groaning in agony. The mohawk kid growled and jumped. Alex sent a roundhouse his way, his foot catching the boy on his chin mid-air. He cried and fell, nursing his ruined jaw.

In about eleven seconds, Hunter and his friends were on the grass, down and out. Delonte was cursing loudly, gasping like a landed fish. Hunter stood shakily, his eyes burning with shock and wrath.

"You little fucker!" he roared. "You're going to get it!"

Will came up behind him and struck the back of his head. Hunter's eyes rolled over, and he swayed where he stood for a few moments. Then, like a tower losing its foundations, he fell. Will spat on the ground. He looked at Alex, words momentarily lost.

Color returned to Alex's vision, the hazy film of red gone. His brown eyes were wide and dilated. He was breathing hard, but nowhere near tired. Blood pumped steadily, pounding like a base drum in his ears. Will slowly moved towards him.

"Alex…?" he said quietly, his hand raised.

Without another word, Alex Rider turned and sprinted away, away from Will, away from the creek, away from Hunter and his downed friends. Away, past Sabina's house, running as far as he could, running until he could forget, forget the pain, forget everything,

_"Cub, no matter how hard you try, a determined enemy's never going to go away from you." He stared at the young boy with soul-piercing eyes. "Just like the past." _

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**London, England**

The black-haired youth walked calmly down the London streets, hands tucked into his pockets like he had not a care in the world. His attractive looks and intriguing eyes caught some attention, but the attention was fleeting, if given. The teenager wore an orange shirt and blue jeans, with the shirt bearing some symbol with inscriptions of a foreign language. He was an ordinary young man taking a walk around Liverpool Street. His objective was unclear, as was almost all of the ordinary pedestrians around him. He walked past windowed shops, past laughing couples, past soaring business towers. He smiled at others who took the time to smile at him, his head swiveling slightly towards the merry sound of bubbling water. He calmly walked more and more, taking in the sights as a regular tourist would during their first time in London, England.

The tall youth stopped at an austere building with the label **Royal & General Bank** inscribed on its metal slab of a sign. Smiling, he walked inside. The fresh wave of air conditioning washed over him as he entered. It would have cooled his body temperature if he was not who he was. He didn't need electricity generated cooling to do that. He crossed the empty, undecorative lobby and stopped at a receptionist's desk. The red-haired woman in the black business dress, probably in her middle thirties, looked up at him with a cheery smile, a smile too happy to be real.

"Hi, welcome to Royal & General Bank. Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, actually," he said in a polite and warm tone. "I need to speak with a one Mrs. Jones, please."

The woman frowned, as if she was confused. "I'm sorry, sir, but we don't have anyone named Mrs. Jones on our roster. I believe Lloyd's Banking Group has a one Mrs. Jones. It's just a few blocks down Liverpool Street, sir."

The young man looked at her as if she was an ignorant child. He noted her nametag. "Ms. Brightley, I am well aware of a Mrs. Jones that works in this very building. I believe she is the director for your company, is she not?"

Ms. Brightley bit her lip and shook her head. She looked like she hadn't the faintest clue. "Sir, I'm sorry, but the CEO of our company is Mitchell Ingram VI."

The youth laughed warmly. "No, Ms. Brightley, I'm sure of it. Director of MI6 Special Operations?"

Ms. Brightley smiled as if _he_ was now playing the ignorant child. "MI6? I'm sorry, sir, this isn't MI6. You are American, are you not? Must be the movies' influence on you."

She chuckled delightedly. The youth smiled back and leaned over until they were almost nose-to-nose. "Ms. Brightley, I know three armed men are moving in an attack position behind me. Please, call them off before things get dirty."

The friendly, good-humored secretary façade disappeared, and the woman gazed unflinchingly back at him. "Sir, please stay still. If you do, things will definitely _not_ 'get dirty'."

He grinned.

"Ms. Brightley!" a voice of authority called from the back.

The woman stood up to attention, as did the three armed men a few feet behind the tall youth. Mrs. Jones stood calmly at the foot of an opened door, her arms folded across her chest. Dark eyes stared penetratingly at the visitor behind clean glasses.

"Stand down, lieutenant," she ordered.

Ms. Brightley sat down, her face slightly paler than before. Mrs. Jones looked to the three men. "Tomlinson, Stiles, Malik, get back to your posts. He was expected." The three men nodded and disappeared into the shadows behind the large "bank's" overhanging balconies. Mrs. Jones' gaze locked onto the calm young man in the orange shirt.

"You are Mr. Brunner's ambassador, are you not?"

The youth's thin brow arched at the name, then recognition dawned. He smiled, as if remembered something from long ago. "Oh, yeah. Mr. Brunner." He brushed a finger under his nose and chuckled. "Yeah, I'm his ambassador."

"Do you go by a name?" the director asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable in the presence of the teenager. He bore an aura that was so strange…so unnatural. He smiled again, and his green eyes warmed with a mellow kindness so unlike the threat oozing from his pores not too long ago.

"Yeah. I go by Percy, Percy Jackson." He shook her outstretched hand strongly. "Now, where's poor ol' Argus? I have a feeling we've got a mystery to solve."

**AN: So, what did you think of it? Please R&R, your feedback and questions are always appreciated (NO FLAMES). 'Till then!**

**FOREVER REMAIN ETCHED IN DIAMOND **


	3. The Boy with the Orange Shirt

**AN: Yes, yes, fast update. Next time, it won't be as fast. Anyways, a little rushed once more, but I want to get the whole bridge thing over with. I'm sorry if it displeases any of you, it was never my intention. I hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: Obviously, I do not own Percy Jackson or Alex Rider. **

The morgue, recently renovated by MI6, was a quaint little edifice smelling of sharp anti-septic and death. A small grin tugged on Percy's lips as he ducked into the white room. _Nico would love to be here. _The young demigod pursed his lips as he surveyed the rows of stainless steel cabinets arrayed around the room. Then, his eyes moved to the center of the room, where a corpse covered by a white cloth lay on a metal table. Two surgeons in face masks were waiting anxiously next to it. Percy could smell the fear on their sweat as he, along with Mrs. Jones and an entourage of guards, walked in.

"Is the corpse ready?" Mrs. Jones asked imperiously. The surgeons nodded rapidly. Mrs. Jones flicked her wrist. Immediately, one of them removed the cloth.

"Bloody hell," one of the agents whispered.

It was a gruesome sight indeed. The cleaned but still mangled corpse lay on the inspection table. His pale skin was smooth and unmarred save for the hundreds of torn eye sockets covering the body. Apparently, whatever had killed Chiron's now-former bodyguard had taken the time to tear out each individual eyeball that was housed in Argus' frame. Percy felt his guts flip several times, the disgust near unbearable. _Oh, Argus_. He remembered the first time he had seen Argus, when he was still new to Camp Half-Blood. He was a strange being, but kind nonetheless.

The agents were shocked to silence. "What the hell is that thing?" one of them dared to ask.

Percy rounded on them, a vein popping on his forehead. "That 'thing' happened to be a good friend of mine, and his name was Argus."

The man turned away slightly, knowing when not to spurn an angry man's fury further. The others kept their mouths shut as Percy approached the still corpse. He folded his arms and looked to the first surgeon.

"What happened to him?" he asked, his voice rough.

The surgeon looked to Mrs. Jones for confirmation. The director of MI6, who had not gotten sleep for the past two days, wearily nodded. The man in the blue scrubs began to work.

"Due to the stage of decomposition on the body, we can assume the victim was killed maybe a week ago, or more, we cannot be entirely sure. The subject is…unusual, to say the least."

"Yes, that has been established. I want to know how he died," Percy said, resisting the urge to spit out every word.

The surgeon gulped. "Abrasions and bruises on the victim's body suggest he took a considerable beating, however," he pointed his glove hand to Argus' palm. "Lacerations and bleeding on his knuckles suggest he didn't go down without a fight."

Percy nodded. "Did he die from the beating?"

The surgeon shook his head. He and his partner carefully turned the corpse over, where Percy stared wide-eyed at two bullet holes on his back. "The victim was shot twice, one of them splitting his spinal cord and the other fracturing his ribcage and entering his heart. He died moments later and, apparently, was abused and thrown into the Thames."

Percy was silent, his green eyes roving over his old acquaintance. There was something wrong here, he was sure of it. He looked at the surgeons. "Where are the bullets?"

The morgue workers wrung their hands nervously, looking to Mrs. Jones once more. She repressed the urge to roll her eyes, and she waved a hand. The first surgeon opened a drawer beneath the table and took out two shining bullets.

"The strange thing is, Mr. Jackson, the two bullets were made of a material akin to metals not used since Classical times, when Greece was the dominant power in Europe and the Mediterranean."

Percy froze, his eyes fixated on the medium brown-jacketed projectiles resting on the metal slab, reflecting the bright light from the overhead projectors. He cleared his throat.

"Is that what I think it is?"

"I'm not sure of what you're thinking, sir, but this is a type of bronze never seen before. One could relate it to Bronze Age weaponry used by the Greeks, but it is, different."

Percy laid his hands on the edges of the table and leaned over Argus' corpse. He stared intently at the two bullets. His mind was racing. If Argus was killed by Celestial bronze, shouldn't he have disintegrated on the spot. He closed his eyes, the confusion too much to handle.

"Do you have anything to say about this, Mr. Jackson?" Mrs. Jones asked sharply. "I too am curious as to why a 6'7, many-eyed humanoid that defies any biological law was found decaying along the River Thames."

Percy glared at her. "There are things I'm not allowed to just blurt out, Mrs. Jones."

She returned his heated glare. "There are things that I, as Director of MI6 Special Operations, am required to know."

Percy stepped up to her, meeting her gaze unwaveringly. "No offense, Mrs. Jones, but there are things much more dire than even MI6."

The tension between them was literally searing. Mrs. Jones' eye twitched. How dare this boy talk to her like that? Percy wouldn't back down, however, and he continued to stare determinedly at her.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Jones," he said, his tone softer. "I'm dead serious. There's more to this world than what you know."

"Like Mr. Brunner," she replied spitefully.

Percy almost flinched. "Yeah, like Mr. Brunner."

Mrs. Jones' eyes hardened. "I apologize for acting this way, Mr. Jackson, but you are not going to leave this room until I am fully informed of what's going on here."

Percy couldn't resist a small smile. "You are aware that I can subdue everyone in this room before you can pull out your guns?"

Percy heard the hammer of a gun slide into place. Cold metal touched the back of his head. "Try it," the surgeon dared, his voice cold and unfeeling.

Percy leered at Mrs. Jones, who merely shrugged. "This can end badly, Mr. Jackson, or it can end well. It is your choice."

"Well, I think I can decide better if I didn't have a loaded gun ready to blow my brains out."

Mrs. Jones nodded and looked to the surgeon. "Put the gun down, Horan."

Horan reluctantly dropped his gun, his beady eyes, however, were still locked onto Percy's back. Percy was staring at Mrs. Jones with an inscrutable expression. He finally tilted his head forward.

"Just you and me, Mrs. Jones," he said. "Just you and me."

Mrs. Jones held up a hand. "Everyone wait outside. I will talk to Percy Jackson."

The agents reluctantly filed out, more than one giving Percy hateful glares. He ignored them, directing his gaze at Mrs. Jones. When they were finally gone, he took a chair and straddled it.

"I suggest you take a seat," he remarked with a tired sigh. "It's a long story."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

It was 4:30, a bright Sunday afternoon, when they found Alex.

He was sitting atop a grassy hill that overlooked the expanse of San Francisco, wearing the same clothes he had worn during the fiasco the day before. The breeze gently blew over him, easing his nerves and stirring the stalks of grass around him. Such an idyllic scene for such a tortured soul.

"Alex!" Sabina cried, running from the car to where he sat at full speed. "Alex, we've been looking everywhere for you!"

She stopped when she reached him, winding her arms around his neck and rocking him gently. "Alex, I was so worried."

He was silent.

Mr. Pleasure closed the car door shut and walked towards them, his wife close behind. He gazed at Alex in worry and frustration. "Alex, we were about to call the police. Please, don't have us worried like that ever again!"

"We couldn't sleep at all last night not knowing where you were," Mrs. Pleasure commented, hugging herself in the wind. "Sabina was worried sick."

Alex stayed silent.

The Pleasures exchanged nervous glances. He hadn't acted like this since…the incident. Mr. Pleasure crouched beside his legal son and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Son, what's going on?"

"Is it Hunter?" Sabina asked, her voice raw with emotion and eyes red. "If it's Hunter, I swear, I'll _kill_ him!"

Mrs. Pleasure hushed her daughter. "Don't say such things, Sabina!"

Alex suddenly stood up, unwrapped himself from Sabina, and walked to the car. He sat down and buckled himself in without a word. Not knowing what else to do, the Pleasures got up, got into the car, and drove away.

When they got home, Alex went straight up stairs and into his room, closing his bedroom door.

The tears came soon after, but they came in less of a concentration as they had hours before. He stripped his clothes, threw on a shirt and some shorts, and collapsed atop his bed.

_"Do you have any parents?"_

No, Will, they were dead.

Dead. Killed. Murdered. Just like Jack. Just like Yassen. Just like so many others, some by his own hand. A hand that had caused so much pain, regardless of which life it took. In one horrifying rush, all the pain and torment came back with a vengeance. His hands gripped the linen sheet below him until his fingers grew white.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not escape his past.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Alex was near silent Monday, refusing to talk outside of answering questions from the teacher. He ignored Hunter's rude comments and Cara's incessant blabbing. He found an empty seat in lunch, taking no notice of Will or his constant apologies. He didn't even bother to rebuff Arnold's questions and nagging.

At the end of the day, his demeanor was not changed at all.

Will angrily threw a punch at the wall. Arnold flinched from where he sat atop the trash bin. "Watch out there, Will," he said. "Y-You don't want to hurt yourself."

"To hell with that!" he bellowed. He looked at his friend with bleary eyes. "I just screwed up the whole operation!"

They were behind the school, the place druggies and misfits usually hung out. Graffiti decorated the tan walls, a testament to the declining control the administrators had over the students. Arnold munched on his tin can. "That's funny, b-because you just accused me of nearly doing that two days before."

Arnold yelped as he dodged the soda can.

"Shut up!"

"I'm s-sorry," Arnold whimpered.

Will ran his hands through his hair. "No, Arnold, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

His friend shrugged awkwardly. "It's n-no problem, man."

Will sat down next Arnold. "I really fucked up, didn't I?"

Arnold thought over it for a moment. "Yeah," he said. "You did. But h-hey, you're not the first."

Will smiled up at Arnold. "You're a good friend, Arnold. A trusty satyr, too."

He took a bite out of his tin can and smiled toothily, aluminum bits still wedged between his teeth. "I am, aren't I?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"So, I speak with you now," Percy finished, leaning back. "That's my world, Mrs. Jones."

The director was silent. _Gods? Demigods? Titans? _She didn't know what to believe. Her inner sense of order and stability was in turmoil. If what this boy, this young man, was saying was true, then everything about the world today was completely different. She laced her fingers and tried to verify any falseness in Percy's eyes. She found none.

"You aren't lying to me," she said after a while.

Percy laughed, standing up and stretching. "Of course not. Did it sound like a lie?"

Mrs. Jones shook her head. "No. It was abstract, but not far-fetched. Everything you said sounded like you lived it all."

"It's because I did live it all,"he replied.

Mrs. Jones hugged herself, looking at the motionless corpse of this "Argus". She looked to Percy.

"Demigods and myths-turned-real aside, there was a reason you came. A reason you have not told us about."

Percy nodded. "Yes. Well, my first objective was to find out how Argus was killed. Chi-I mean, Mr. Brunner, had sent him here to do some preliminary investigations on some trouble brewing in London. We lost contact with him a few days later."

"You sent one of yours to a potential powder keg alone," Mrs. Jones said. "Regardless of how many eyes he possesses, that isn't a good tactical decision."

Percy shook his head. "Tactics weren't supposed to be an issue. He was stronger than any mortal, faster than any mortal, and only celestial bronze could kill him. Plus, the Mist shielded people from his true appearance."

"Do you mean the veil that you said shrouded mythical beings from mortal eyes?"

"More like distorted. One would still see Argus, but not his real form. Mr. Brunner told me he looked like a middle-aged man with a plain looking face and short hair. The perfect cover." Percy narrowed his eyes at Argus. "This is why I find it hard to believe he is dead."

Mrs. Jones walked up beside the young man. "What exactly was Argus supposed to investigate?"

Percy bit his lip. "I can't tell. What I can say is that an enemy has risen from an army we vanquished a long time ago. He's trying to rally others, we believe." He stared at Mrs. Jones. "And this time, we think he's bringing in mortals."

Mrs. Jones' eyes widened. "That is…a scary thought."

Percy scoffed. "That's an understatement."

"There was another reason why you came, isn't there? Finding out Argus' way of death wasn't the only one."

Percy nodded again. "Right. Argus' death leaves a vital role empty for our camp. We are in need of a replacement."

Mrs. Jones frowned. "And you need one from MI6?"

"Correct."

"Well, this would be a hard task for an agent to fulfill, but we are the best in the world, or close to it. I already have many agents in mind that will be perfect for the-"

"There's no need," the demigod interjected. "Mr. Brunner gave me specific instructions as to who shall replace Argus as security."

"Well then, who will it be?"

Percy opened his mouth, then closed it, frowning. He fished into his pockets and took out a folded piece of paper. He unfolded it and scanned it over. He showed it to Mrs. Jones.

"The name is faded out, but I'm sure you know of him already."

Mrs. Jones' heart stopped beating, and she froze. Staring up at her, fourteen years old and scared out of his wits, was Alex Rider.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"I'm going to go out for a walk."

The Pleasures literally jumped, whirling from their dinner to see Alex in fitness clothes standing at the foot of the stairs. It had been two days since the incident of his disappearance, and in that time he rarely ever said a word. Mr. Pleasure's mouth was open, trying very hard to find words to say. Sabina jumped out of her chair and embraced him.

"Oh, Alex," she whispered. "Are you okay?"

Alex smiled tenderly. "I'm okay, Sabina. I just need some fresh air."

"I'm glad you're with us now, Alex," Mr. Pleasure finally said. "Go ahead. We're not stopping you."

"And try to be safe, dear," Sabina's mom cautioned. "We don't want to lose you again."

Alex chuckled. "I'll be fine, Mrs. Pleasure. I'll be back shortly. Please, continue eating."

Alex detached himself from Sabina, kissed her on the cheek, and left the house.

He always found it easier to think when he was out in the night breeze, running and generally being all to himself. He looked up at the sky. The gibbous moon was bright, casting a bathing glow upon the San Francisco neighborhood. He continued to run, passing Sabina's block and onward.

The whole two days had been a mess. The mere mention of his parents and the implications of his past had socked him upside the head and sent him careening into a storm of emotion, guilt, and depression. Alex sighed. It looks like he hadn't formed a very good emotional wall at all. He was glad the Pleasures were there for him, though. They were the closest thing to a family he's ever had since…

_Bright red hair cascading down a happy and gentle face. A bright smile that always lit up his day. Her voice, her presence, so like the mother he didn't get to have._

A tear forced its way down his cheek. He wiped his face, angry at himself. _Pull yourself together. One thought of Jack and you've got yourself crying like a baby._ He reigned in that anger and fueled it into his exercise, pumping his legs and sprinting up the sidewalk, running against the incline.

_"Run, Cub, run! What's going to happen when you have a group of mercenaries with guns on full auto pumping lead in your direction? Run faster, Cub! Are you daft? C'mon, Double O' Nothing, run FASTER!"_

Wolf's words were a cold comfort to Alex as he hurtled through the neighborhood. After all, the SAS man's training was what kept him alive all those years. In fact, he found it easy to say that the only reason he was here today was because of the training he had received under the BSAS guys.

Then there was Smithers, Mrs. Jones, and, dare he say it, Alan Blunt who had, many times, saved his-

_No. MI6 ruined your life. You would've been a normal kid with good grades, a girlfriend, and a bright future if they had never gotten involved._

_ But, Alex, how many times have you saved countless people's lives because of your actions? Actions guided and mentored by MI6. You've become a better person, Alex, a courageous and strong person who is, for all intents and purposes, the savior of the world many times over._

_ Savior of the world, yes. A better person? Hm. Do you remember Julius Grief's clone? Shooting him dead on that field of grass? Watching many of your enemies die before your very eyes? You even claimed Ash, your godfather, your friend, a nobody. Plus, even though you've saved the world, how many people know? MI6 does, but is it likely they'll tell anyone?_

Alex was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't notice the black car screeching towards him.

Time slowed down, and he stared at the headlights with a very confused expression. _So this is how deer feel like_. His body reacted ahead of his mind. His leg muscles strained, and he jumped into the air.

Alex crashed into the windshield, feeling the glass crack under his weight. He rolled over the hood, finally falling on the trunk and crashing on the street. A curse flew from his lips and he got to his feet, running as fast as he could as the car backed up, attempting to run him over. The front window rolled open, and Alex saw the muzzle of a silenced gun pointing at him.

The rounds tore into concrete Alex had inhabited seconds before, making sharp whizzing sounds as it tore into the pavement. The gunner looked out the window, searching for the boy. He was bald, with black, opaque sunglasses covering his eyes. He touched his earpiece, muttering something unintelligible.

Alex's fist lashed out from the side of the car, catching the gunner in the jaw. He had sneaked around the back, invisible in the shadows and outside their field of vision. If only they had cared to look in the rearview mirror.

Alex grabbed the man's head and smashed it onto the door. He heard a door open and saw another man, a figure in a black suit, face him from the other end. Steel grey eyes with no trace of warmth fixed on Alex.

Alex dropped the unconscious driver and dove out of the way as the man fired. _MP5 submachine gun, by the sound of it_. Alex spied the knocked out gunner's weapon lying on the concrete, where he had dropped it. Alex took it, checked the chamber, and got to his feet.

The man had rounded the car, and was now right in front of him. He lifted the submachine gun, ready to fire. Alex's hand whipped out, redirecting the man's line of fire. The bullets tore into the black car as Alex pointed it away from him. The man frowned. A black-shoed foot buried into Alex's stomach. His vision momentarily darkened, and the sidearm dropped.

The gray-eyed man pointed his gun at him and pulled the trigger.

_Click-click-click_.

He grunted and threw the gun away. Metal flashed in the man's hand, and Alex barely had time to dodge as his enemy aimed for his throat. The former spy leaned back, feeling the sharp metal graze his chin. He swallowed and gripped the man's knife hand, pulling him forward and punching him in the jaw. The man grunted, stumbling back. He had not expected such resistance from the boy.

Alex sighted the man's torso, and like a missile, his fist went soaring. It crashed onto the man's kidney area, but he quickly found out the man was wearing protective padding. Stars flew as the man recovered and socked him on the face.

Alex stumbled back, like his opponent had done earlier before. Wolf had always told him that getting punched over the kidney hurt like hell. There were only a few options left if he wanted to take this guy down. The man was definitely experienced. _Must be a merc_, thought Alex, _some sort of ex-Special Forces. Real atrocious type._ _Well_, Alex figured, _if he was going to fight dirty, then so will I_.

Alex stepped forward and kicked the man between the legs. His face bulged, obviously not expecting such a move. He knelt down, cradling his sore privates. Alex cocked back a fist and let loose.

His enemy dropped to the ground, out cold. Alex sighed in relief, straightening and wiping a speck of blood from his mouth. _What the hell had just happened?_ Before he could think or do anything, he heard the hammer of a gun slide into place.

"Don't fuckin' move, brat."

Alex closed his eyes. He lifted his hands above his head and turned around. The bald mercenary was standing outside the car, his nose swollen and bleeding. He pointed the sidearm at Alex.

"Boss told us you used to work for MI6," he spat. He spoke in strong Scouse. "But we figured you were more of a light undercover asset, you know? Didn't know you were fuckin' James Bond incarnate."

Alex shrugged. "I am who I am. Why are you here?"

"To kill you, a' course." He replied, laughing. "Boss wants you dead before the other side gets to you. It was hard, but now I'll finally get his-"

There was a sharp whiz, and the man's head exploded like a watermelon. The headless body lurched for a moment, then finally fell to the ground. Alex stared with very wide eyes at the carcass of a man he had just been talking to seconds before.

Suddenly, cars appeared in the narrow driveway, black utilitarian vehicles that gave Alex a douse of cold recognition. Black suited individuals poured out from the automobiles, instantly tending to the dead man and the unconscious one. Others began to inspect the car with gloves and forensic tools. From the voices he was hearing, there was only one possibility.

"Alex Rider."

Alex went stock still. _That voice_. He didn't want to turn around. He didn't want to see the person he already knew was standing there. It seemed he could not really escape his past after all. He turned around.

Mrs. Jones looked the same as she always had. Polished glasses, neat bun, immaculate and sharp business clothing. She stared at Alex with the same warmth and kindness she had shown him his first day visiting "Royal & General Bank". Only now, a heavy sadness permeated the air around her.

"Mrs. Jones…?" Alex croaked out, too shocked for anymore words.

The new Director of MI6 Special Operations tried a smile, but she couldn't bar the regret and guilt from appearing on her face. "Yes, Alex. It's me. I'm sorry we couldn't get to you in time."

Alex opened his mouth, flabbergasted.

"I know you're confused, Alex. I know you're also furious. Believe me, I tried with all my might not to come here."

"She's right," a voice unknown to Alex said. A car door opened, and a young man about his age or older stepped out. He was dressed in an orange shirt and jeans, with a black jacket over the strange shirt. Green eyes stared at Alex, looking him up and down. "She didn't want to come. I forced her."

'W-Who are you?" Alex managed to stammer, the shock beginning to wear off, replaced by anger and suspicion. "What are all of you doing here?" He glared at Mrs. Jones with teary eyes. "You _promised_ never to approach me again!"

The stranger both of his hands before Mrs. Jones could protest. "Don't get mad at her. I kind of forced her into a corner." He appraised Alex once more. "Wow. Two skilled mercenaries with over twenty years of combat under their belts and you kicked their butts. You're more than what we expected, Alex Rider."

Alex rounded on him. "Who…are…_you_?" He jabbed his finger on the guy's chest at the last word. "If you don't tell me what's going on, I swear, I will-!"

A fire hydrant to his right burst apart. Alex whirled, his eyes widening as the unleashed water spiraled into the air, twisting like a dragon in the night sky. The water focused like a knife, went still for a millisecond, and then went crashing down atop Alex. The concentrated weight of the liquid sent Alex to the ground. When the deluge was over, he lay on the concrete, completely wet and gasping for air.

Everyone was silent. The agents around them were frozen, including a very shocked Mrs. Jones. No one knew what had just occurred. The black-haired youth sniffed casually and drew his jacket closer about him. He walked over and knelt by a stunned Alex.

"My name is Percy Jackson," he answered. "I'm sorry for that, but it looked like you needed a wake-up call."

"W-What," Alex gasped. "What do you want with me?"

Percy smiled kindly. "We're not out to get you, dude. Trust me, we're the good guys. Chiron thinks you're something special, so I was ordered to find you. A war's on the horizon, Alex, and it looks like you'll be fighting in it.

Those were the last words Alex heard before everything went black, and he fell into peaceful oblivion.

**AN: You like it? If you don't I completely understand. Always remember to R&R (NO FLAMES). Next chapter won't be up as fast, so don't expect it tomorrow or anytime soon for that matter.**

**Sandd: I'm glad you like it!**

**J'aime lire: Thanks for the comment! It's good that you like the story, and I love writing action, so expect a lot of it!**

**percabethforevafan: Hi! I'm very glad you enjoy the story. I hope you'll keep up with it. Expect Annabeth!**

**Booklouver: Thanks for the nice comment! Alex will have a very interesting tie-in to Percy's world, so it'll be a pleasant surprise, I hope. **

**Alicloud: Thanks for the very in-depth comments! Your compliments are very satisfying as a writer, but I can assure you, I'm definitely not the best. Percy is very mature now since his younger days, but he's still same-old Percy. Your questions will be answered, and as I said, Alex will be kind of the odd ball to the modern demigod world.**

**The First Gatekeeper: Lol, you're welcome. Alex's past always comes back to him, and similar things will occur throughout the story. I hope you follow along!**

**FOREVER REMAIN IN DIAMOND **


	4. The Guardian

**AN: Hey, there! I lied! The fourth chapter is here, sooner than you and I expected. Okay, trust me on this one: Chapter Five will NOT be up soon. I will perhaps postpone it on purpose to control myself. Anyways, you might be confused in this one, but this is basically a flashback. Dialogue's a bit confusing, but imagine British accents when you read it. Hope you enjoy!**

**DISCLAIMER: **_**I don't own anything that isn't mine.**_

**/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\**

**Two weeks before the events of **_**Benigno Numine**_

**London, England**__

**Thames Path Walk**

To the mass of Londoners walking amiably beside the surging Thames, he was just an ordinary man in an ordinary suit carrying an ordinary suitcase. His face was neither handsome nor ugly, his hair was close-cropped, and black eyes stared emotionlessly in front of him. Roving eyes would pass over him disinterestedly and move away. "It's just one of those bloody businessmen," one would think. He weaved through the crowd, everyone too absorbed in petty conversations and the watching the world-famous river flow by to pay any attention to the plain-looking man beside them.

However, for those who had the rare ability to see past the Mist, and to clearly perceive what one really was, they were in for a surprise. The ordinary man might've been just that if it weren't for the hundreds of blue eyes covering his body, constantly darting to and fro to check for potential enemies. They blinked randomly, the man, or whatever it was, having the ability to control each one of them independently. The continuous motion lent the allusion of his frame phasing in and out like a hazy hologram. One the side of the brown suitcase, etched into a golden plaque, read: **Argus**.

He continued to walk, unperturbed. He dodged through a passing couple and entered an alley. The sounds of human presence gradually faded away as he went deeper into the urban maze, passing desperate bums and random individuals who had lost their way. Once, a trio of nasty-looking hooligans attempted to rob him, but one look sent them scurrying away. Even under the veil of the Mist Argus exuded a dangerous aura. As he ventured deeper into South London, the walls became grimy and stained with dirt and the traces of colorful graffiti. Smoke roiled from vents in the ground, lending a repugnant odor to the sketchy scene. The number of people rapidly decreased at this point, and eventually, he was the only one left. Argus walked on for a long time, his patience never dwindling.

Soon, his objective was at hand. He stopped at the sound of conversation drifting through the filthy alleyway.

"'Ow long do we 'af to fuckin' sit 'ere?" a thin, reedy voice complained quite vocally. "I swear, if we 'af to stay 'ere any longer I'll damn right freeze my bollocks!"

"Quit it, plonker," a gritty voice answered. "Bad enough Boss already thinks you're a wankstain, now you've got to whine and moan like a little baby."

Argus moved to the adjacent wall, his footsteps making no sound.

"Shut your mouth, Reggie!" the first voice replied. "Don't think you've got a better fuckin' chance then I do with the Boss. I'm not the nonce 'oo got nabbed in the act!"

Ned, presumably, mumbled under his breath. Argus arched a thin eyebrow. He was curious as to what this "boss" was, although the intel he had received earlier gave him a good guess. The immortal knelt down, blocking out the pair's incessant banter, and opened his suitcase.

"Hello, beautiful," he whispered, his voice deep and thrumming. A Sig Sauer P226 was neatly encased in the interior, rounds of brass stacked neatly beside it. He withdrew the gun from where it lay, loading the magazine and inserting any available ammunition into his pockets. He lifted the gun and slowly moved forward at a low crouch.

Two men were standing at attention near a set of short stairs leading to a door. One of them, a skinny redhead with startling freckles, looked ruffled. His suit was slightly soiled from the polluted water pooling near their feet. _This one is Ned_. Another man, a behemoth in a tight suit and tie, stood on the other side of the door, a permanent scowl contorting his square-jawed face. _This must be Reggie_.

Argus stepped forward. His foot landed on a nearby puddle, the action causing a small splash. The immortal cursed and moved back. Both guards' heads swiveled towards the source of the noise. The dense fog barred any further vision, however. Ned gulped.

"'Ey Reggie," he whispered.

"What?" the bigger man snarled, trying to peer through the smoke. He was positive a shadow had moved back after the sound. His hand crept to the pistol on his holster in preparation.

"What if someone's comin' for the Boss?" his smaller partner whimpered. "Rumor 'as it that his pudding got stirred in America an' he came 'ere."

"Watch your damn mouth, Ned," Reggie growled. "The Boss got eyes an' ears everywhere. If it is a hitter, you'll be damn sure we stop it 'ere."

"Says you!" Ned whined. "I'm not the one built like a brick shit-house!"

Reggie turned his head, frowning. "What you say?"

The opportunity was ripe for the taking. Argus hurtled out of the fog, his silenced sidearm already aimed for Reggie's oversized skull. Argus pulled the trigger once. The huge man's head burst into a gory mess, sending the decapitated corpse to the ground. Argus caught the body before it could make a sound, and gently laid it on the floor. He looked up, eyes locked onto the quaking Ned.

"W-Who…?" the young man, no, a boy in his late teens, stammered. He hadn't even bothered to reach for his gun.

Argus, faster than any mortal, zoomed in front of the frightened guard and drove the butt of his pistol into his temple. Ned's eyes rolled over in his skull, and he collapsed like a felled tree. He caught the unconscious boy and laid him next to the dead Reggie. _Good. Perimeter defense terminated. _He was curious as to why they had left their base so loosely guarded, but then again, no one was supposed to know of the meeting. Argus smiled. They always underestimated them.

Argus climbed the short stairway and rapped his knuckles on the door. "'Ey, man, it's Ned. Open the bloody door; it's freezin' like 'ell down 'ere!"

There was a rustling sound on the other side of the door. "You're such a fanny, Ned. Get your bloody cocoa and maybe grow a pair while you're at it."

The door opened, revealing a pale face in a robber hat. Drooping eyes registered the tall man in the black suit, recognition failing to appear. "Oi, you're not Ned-"

Argus' hands whipped forward, grabbed either side of his head, and twisted.

There was an audible crack as the man slumped in Argus' grasp. He dropped him to the floor. Another man, a barrel-chested brute with a wild beard and crooked eyes, stood up from where he was sitting, an adult magazine still clutched in one hand. The man cursed and reached for the rifle leaning next to the door. Argus' fingers darted forward, striking the man's exposed throat like a cobra. He felt the trachea shatter, and the man fell, the magazine dropping from his nerveless fingers.

Argus sniffed. Opposition was alarmingly light. Needless to say, he expected more. They had appointed third-rate jackals to protect the den of lions. He shrugged, unfazed. Chiron's security guard surveyed his location.

He was in a small room, the space limited to five or less men. A rickety wardrobe stood silently in the far corner. In front of him was a dimly-lit corridor, the overhead lights flickering erratically. Argus couldn't suppress a smile. It was straight out of a horror movie. _However_, he mused drily, _I am the monster_.

He lifted his Sig Sauer and walked quietly down the corridor, his tall frame and dozens of blinking eyes bathed in light one second and invisible the next. He reached the doorway, which held a small rectangular viewing glass at head height. He peered through it and saw his target.

Ahriman. One of Kronos' top generals during their assault on Olympus; although he was favored more for his brutality than tactical competency. Many of the Campers lost during the Titan's rampage through New York were due to his voracious appetite for blood and death. He was the one who had broken through the Holland Tunnel (defended by the Hephaestus cabin) and linked forces with Kronos. To make it even worse, he was a five-thousand-year old manticore with a penchant for slow torture.

Of course, he was in his human form at the moment. Ahriman resembled a Persian dignitary: smoldering, coal-black eyes set deep into a bronze-skinned face akin to the Middle Eastern kings of old. An immaculate gray suit covered his tall, well-built body. The manticore looked like a young and handsome oil tycoon rather than a millennia old monster. His eyes, however, contained a manic hunger, darting to and fro as if seeking whom he may devour next. They were burning with a fiery malevolence too ardent and vicious for a regular man. No. Only an immortal being with thousands of years to kill and destroy could have those eyes.

Argus felt all of his eyes twitch. He hated people like that. People who would use their immortality to hurt others. The security guard, immortal himself, swore he would put an end to this.

_No. You were sent to confirm Ahriman's presence, and that was it. Report back to Long Island and tell Chiron what's going on._

_ Wait here, Argus. You might hear something damn important, and you might never get to hear it if you go back to America._

Argus thought it over for a moment. He finally decided to go with the latter. Who knows, he might catch some battle plans. The target and others were standing around a table, below ground level, it seemed. The floor where Argus stood was actually a balcony ringing the pit of monsters beneath. Railings bordered its edge, and several armed guards patrolled it dutifully. Ahriman began to speak, and Argus leaned in…

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Gentlemen," the manticore began. His voice had an exotic lilt, deep and rich. "Gentlemen, please, settle down."

The conversation died down, and the assorted group sat down. Ahriman smiled a warm smile that betrayed his nature. The others took that smile with unease. Most of them had served alongside Ahriman during the Battle of Manhattan, and even the whole campaign. This was not a being to take dismissively. Ones who made that mistake most likely found themselves in his bottomless stomach.

A smile. "Ah…memories. I remember each and every one of you. It has been so long since we have last seen each other. Most of you had been dead, but now, you are arisen."

There were several grunts, howls, and laughter from the group. They were all monsters who had served under Kronos. Ahriman lifted a tanned hand, and they fell silent.

"I am glad you took the time to come, although unknowing of the nature of the event." He spread his arms wide. "Things have come full circle, friends, and our time of vengeance is at hand."

"Just spit it out, Ahriman!" a silky voice demanded. A lamia stood, snakeskin pooling around her feet. "We did not come here to exchange petty pleasantries. The road has been long and hard. Do not waste our time!"

The inhumanity that was harbored inside the manticore surfaced for a split second. His eyes blazed, and a low growl rumbled in his chest. He reined it in, however, and answered with another smile.

"Of course, Aristophanes," he said smoothly. He turned to the others, all personal matters put aside.

"The Titans are finished," he began. "Their time is ended indefinitely. They had their chance to resurface, but the demigods and Luke Castellan put an end to that."

Snarls were heard as the names were mentioned.

"We were defeated," he continued. "We were slain on the concrete plains of the mortal city and mocked. Great Hyperion himself was made into a maple tree by the cloven fools, and there he shall remain."

The volume increased, and several were on their feet, cursing in tongues long lost to mankind. Ahriman smiled. They were ensnared in his net.

"How can things go well from here?" he asked. He stared at them, feigning despair. "We are hunted at every corner by the Greeks and the Romans, trophies to be displayed in their wretched camps. Look what happened to the Minotaur. I hear his broken horn still hangs in the son of Poseidon's chambers."

An outburst. Screams, yells. Fury incarnate.

"What can be done to reverse our folly?" he inquired, his voice almost drowned out by the monsters' racket. "Who is there to save us?"

Names were called out randomly. Porphyrion, the king of the Gigantes. Summon Typhon back from Tartarus. Tempt Prometheus out of hiding. Ahriman shook his head, smiling as if they were a rabble of desperate children.

"No, no," Ahriman declared. "You speak of lesser beings, beings that have tried and failed to overthrow Olympus in the past."

"Then who do you suggest, Ahriman?" a huge Lastrygonian roared. "Who do you think has enough power to do what you speak of?"

Ahriman smiled. "Why, who so better to overthrow the gods then the very first?"

Utter silence. The lamia stood shakily.

"You cannot possibly suggest-?"

"This is no slip of the tongue. I mean exactly what I say: revive the primordials from their state of slumber, and victory is ours."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Argus could hardly believe what he had just heard. _The primordials? _He tried hard to remember, wracking his brains to produce ancient names from memory. Gaea he knew; after all, she was his mother. Uranus was one. There were so many others, but they had long faded into obscurity.

The plan itself was mind-boggling. Hating the gods was one thing, but reviving the Primordials to do it? Argus never really liked the gods. For one, his first death had been at the hands of Hermes, the annoying messenger and trickster of Olympus. Despite that, he knew consorting with the beings that had existed when Time began was a terrible mistake.

_Chiron's going to get a seizure when he hears this…_

He saw through an eye on his cheek that a guard was getting too close for comfort. Argus ducked. It was time to go. He turned, and met face-to-face with a grinning mormo.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

There was a loud bang outside the ground-level exit. Heads turned simultaneously. Ahriman scowled, his magnificent presentation cut short. He glowered at a guard on the ground-floor balcony.

"What's going on there?" he asked.

"I-I dunno, Boss," the dimwit stammered. "I just 'eard a shot, is all."

"Hell fire and damnation," Ahriman growled. "What fools these mortals be."

His jaw stretched to an incredible degree, revealing three rows of serrated fangs, like a shark. His slick, combed hair sprouted in the blink of an eye, growing and forming around his now terrifying face like a bushy mane. The gray suit tore, and he crouched down to all fours. Ahriman grew, his torso shifting into the red-furred body the size and shape of an Asiatic lion. A scorpion tail dripping with acidic venom sprouted from his rear, poised and undulating like a sentient thing.

Ahriman the human was gone. Ahriman the manticore had arrived.

A monstrous smile contorted his already gruesome face. His feline muscles bunched, and he launched into the air, landing on the balcony and barreling through the door. A dead mormo lay on the ground, blood pooling from its body. His enhanced sight and smell told him everything he needed to know. 9×19mm Parabellum cases of celestial bronze. Ancient odor smelling of earth and sky. Ahriman grinned.

"Argus," he hissed excitedly.

The manticore, followed by an entourage of the world's fiercest creatures, chased after the scent of the turncoat monster, eager to deal out death.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Argus was running faster than he ever had in his life. He saw Ahriman and the others chasing him through the eyes on the back of his head. If he didn't get out of there fast, he was in trouble.

The monster-turned-guardian emptied his magazine into the mob. He heard several screams and thuds, but they weren't slowing down. He cursed, pumping his arms and legs as hard as he could. Just when he thought he wouldn't make it, he spied a rusty ladder not too far ahead. He grinned and leapt into the air, farther than an Olympian athlete. Argus gripped the rungs and started climbing.

He felt a enormous thud on the cement wall to his right. Ahriman was clinging to the wall like a spider, a salivating grin etched onto his demonic face.

"Argus!" the manticore exclaimed, running vertically on the wall and coming very close to where he was climbing. "How long has it been? Two hundred years? Three hundred?" A hearty laugh. "It was in Afghanistan, I believe. You foiled my plans quite thoroughly, did you not? I do not easily forget ones who have wronged me, pet of Hera."

Argus replied by pointing his gun at the beast's ugly mug and pulling the trigger.

The manticore screamed as a celestial bronze-jacketed round buried into his cheek. Argus finally hoisted himself over the edge as Ahriman struggled to retain his purchase on the wall. The many-eyed immortal spit over the roof ledge.

"Catch me if you can, little cat."

Argus was already leaping over rooftops when Ahriman's furious roar died down.

His heart was pounding from exhaustion by the fifteenth roof. South London was a big place indeed. By the scenery, he could tell he was reaching the slums. Great. Just the place he didn't want to go. _Too late now, Argus_.

He was about to leap over his seventeenth rooftop when a massive hand materialized from beneath the concrete ledge and crashed into him. The air was knocked out of his lungs, and he flew back, winded.

The Lastrygonian from before pulled himself onto the roof, grunting to get his tremendous weight over the top. The giant cannibal chuckled as he spied Argus trying to get up.

"Fool," he intoned. "You are one of the oldest beings in existence, closer to the primordials than any of us. Join us, end your futile endeavor."

Argus stood shakily to his feet. He allowed a smile to enter his face. "Not a chance. Show me what you're made of."

The Lastrygonian bellowed in challenge and charged. Argus waited for the stupid giant to come closer, and then he jumped. The immortal grabbed a hold of the cannibal's ear and gripped hard. The brown-skinned giant howled in agony, and he was forced to his knees as Argus used his momentum to bring him down.

The many-eyed humanoid brought the Sig Sauer to the Lastrygonian's open mouth and fired once. The giant went still.

Argus had little time to celebrate, however, as he saw Ahriman and the others hurdle the last alley and land on the rooftop. The manticore was breathing heavily.

"Argus," he gasped. "You have worked me harder than I have been worked for a long time." The grin returned. "Nonetheless, we have you outnumbered. Surrender. Now."

Argus shrugged and loaded another slip into his favored sidearm. "You know my answer, Ahriman."

"So be it. Attack!"

The monsters shrieked and pounced on Argus.

One would think several dozen millennia-old creatures that have hunted and killed heroes as a day job would have no trouble taking down one pistol-armed humanoid, regardless of how many eyes he had. This was Argus, though. And one did not become Guardian for the Gods by a simple interview.

He saw every attack before it came. Every time a monster would strike, there was a parry and a counterattack. There was practically nothing Argus couldn't see. His speed, unparalleled by most in the world, gave him an advantage over the cumbersome strength-driven beasts Ahriman usually commandeered.

Ahriman himself lunged in for the kill. The guardian merely sidestepped the attack and sent a devastating boot to the manticore's neck. The Persian monster gurgled piteously and thrashed on the ground, trying to regain his breath.

Fourteen monsters lay at Argus' feet, but more were coming. He could feel exhaustion gnawing on his bones as the relentless wave refused to ebb. He gasped for air, avoiding a siren's swipe and putting a bullet in her face.

Just when he was about to be overwhelmed, he saw an opening form in the monsters' formation. Just one tiny hole, but one tiny hole was enough for Argus. He barreled through the mob, shooting anything in his way. There were several clicks as he pulled the trigger. _Just in time, too_. He breathed air free from the repulsive rank of the monsters as he broke through the lines.

Argus was about to jump when there were two loud cracks, and he felt two sharp stabs of pain on his back. _Sniper. Gods, he should've thought about damned _snipers. He couldn't resist a scream of pain as he fell. Pain, pain, _pain_. The celestial bronze, he assumed so, was sending shockwaves of electricity through his weary frame, causing him to spasm uncontrollably. _This isn't right. I should be halfway to Tartarus by now_.

"Do you feel that, Argus?" Ahriman wheezed, coming up beside him and breathing over the back of his head. "Do you feel that pain?"

Argus groaned, the pain too unbearable for him to even coherently speak.

"This is no ordinary celestial bronze. This is celestial bronze laced with the essence of Tartarus himself, the primordial that imprisons all the killed monsters. How did you get it, you might ask." Argus could hear the smile in his next words. "We simply asked."

The monsters gathered around the downed guardian chortled, prepared for the morsel before them.

"You tried, Argus," Ahriman remarked, "You did. You were just too late. The spark of Tartarus on the bullets will encase you in your own private hell. You will remain in your solid body, like any mortal, although this time, the pain is forever."

"P-Percy," he began, losing consciousness already. "Percy and Chiron w-will stop you."

Ahriman laughed. "Those fools don't even know you're dying. Trust me, we will dispose of your body."

Argus almost caved in to despair at that point. _No. No matter what these bastards do to me, I won't lose hope. I'll be technically dead, but there's a way to revive my body, I'm sure of it. If there's anyone who can find out, it's Percy. Don't lose hope, Argus, don't lose…_

His physical body faded, and the last breath left Argus' mouth. Every one of his eyes closed.

Ahriman smiled triumphantly.

"You may start," he told the others.

They howled victoriously and set upon the guardian's dead, but not truly dead, corpse. The after-shock of the abuse Argus was getting was sure to reach his incorporeal form inside the personal Tartarus Ahriman had devised.

The manticore shifted back to his human form, the suit back, the hair perfectly combed. He reached into his pockets, took out a cigar and lighter, and began to smoke.

"The day is coming," he whispered to himself. "You will have your vengeance."

He looked to the sky, where supposedly, Uranus was waiting, where all the other primordials were waiting. Waiting patiently to be unleashed.

Ahriman grinned.

_The gods were doomed from the start._

**AN: Yes, yes, rushed. I wanted to give a little insight about Argus, however, and why this conflict is starting to begin with. If you have questions, feel free to PM me, or simply, R&R (NO FLAMES)! Thanks for all the reviews, guys! Till then!**

**FOREVER REMAIN ETCHED IN DIAMOND**


	5. The Tempest Raging

**AN: Hello, folks, it's me. I am not dead, fortunately. I finally was able to get to this after a serious bout of writer's block, so I hope it's to your liking. Nothing much, just a big battle scene. There's a HUGE time jump, just so you know. Here we go… **

_There. Done._

Alex dropped the pencil on the desk. He double-checked the scantron, making sure the bubbles were all filled in correctly. He wiped his eyes. Boy, that test was easy. Most of them were common sense questions, and all the difficult ones required simple context evaluation. He grinned and snuck a peek at Hunter. His back was rigid and hunched, and he was tapping his pencil against the desk furiously.

Mrs. Grant, in a purple dress that did nothing to hide her obvious wideness, hushed him and continued reading her baking magazine. Alex felt slightly pleased at the sight of Hunter squirming, but he contained his joy and sat back, immensely satisfied.

The bell rang, causing Hunter to spasm violently.

"I'm not finished yet!" Hunter exclaimed.

Mrs. Grant frowned. "Well, what question are you on? It's only sixty questions."

Hunter perused his scantron. "Forty-two," he said, disappointed. "But I'm a fast worker, I swear!"

Another frown from the teacher. "I'm sure. Turn it in, Mr. Reese."

Hunter gritted his teeth and reluctantly handed the test to Mrs. Grant. She glared at him; her glasses perched on the bridge of her nose. "Come on, Hunter. Why can't you be more like Arnold? He turned it in within the hour."

Arnold beamed.

"Yeah, well, we're not all born like _that_."

People snickered as Arnold sunk lower in his seat. Alex narrowed his eyes and straightened. "Well, at least we weren't born with a slightly retarded sense of time."

Hunter smirked. "Good one, Rider. Where'd you get that one?"

The class laughed, but Alex ignored them. He smiled at Arnold, who smiled back and mouthed a _thank-you_. Mrs. Grant stood up before anyone could leave, causing the whole class to hold their breath and suppress a groan.

"I'd just like to say that you've been such a good class this year," she said, tears welling in her eyes. "You're all such wonderful young men and women. I'm proud that I was your teacher! Now, run along you flock of pigeons-!"

The students rushed as one, nearly sending Mrs. Grant to the floor. They filed out of the door excitedly, whooping in delight. Alex shook hands with a bewildered Mrs. Grant. "It's been a good year, Mrs. Grant. I'm proud to have been your student."

Mrs. Grant grinned. "You're such a good boy, Alex. If only all of my students were raised in Britain. Or were like Frank, or course."

Alex smiled and left.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Alex stood on the stone courtyard of the school, his eyes roving over the marble letters on the wall that read: **John W. Geary High School**. He sighed, adjusting his backpack strap over his shoulder. He was done with his junior year in America.

"Feeling proud of yourself?" a familiar voice asked.

"A little. More satisfied and relieved than proud, I guess." He turned. "How're you, Percy?"

The black-haired youth, a little older than he was, chuckled. He wore a blue jacket that covered a lanky frame. "Good. Summer's starting, and you know what that means."

Alex rolled his eyes. "If you're talking about that ridiculous summer camp you keep mentioning, then no. Like all the other times, it's a no."

Percy fidgeted, crossing his arms across his chest. He was seated on a stone wall about waist-high, puddles from the storm the other night seeming to gather around him. Everything about Percy seemed strangely off to Alex. The instincts that were pounded into him by the SAS men so long ago screamed "WRONG" whenever Percy's name was brought up, and with that whole fire hydrant fiasco last year, the sense of unnaturalness was increased.

"Alex!"

He smiled and readily embraced Sabina. She grinned and pecked him on the cheek. "School's over," she said softly. "Now I've got a whole summer with you." She noticed Percy and waved.

"Hello, Percy!" she said, smiling.

He smiled back. "Afternoon, Sabina. You look beautiful today."

Sabina chuckled. "Well, thank you, Mr. Jackson." She glared mockingly at Alex. "See? Why don't you have his manners?"

Alex rolled his eyes once more. "Fine then. You look beautiful."

Sabina slapped him playfully on the shoulder. Alex could see a pair of hate-filled green eyes in his periphery, but he chose to ignore Hunter. Sabina would be his; he had no doubt about that.

Alex looked around. "Where's Will?"

"With Arnold," Percy said. "They're heading to the camp as we speak."

"Camp?" Sabina said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "What camp?"

Alex glared at Percy, who was smiling contently. "Some weird Greek history camp every summer. This chap's been bugging me to go, but…"

Sabina frowned. "But what? That sounds _really_ interesting!"

_Well, if it didn't involve stupid tales about demigods and dragging your boyfriend into some convoluted war than, yeah, it sounds interesting._

Sabina looked to Percy. "Can I come?"

Percy made a strained face. "Er, it's a pretty exclusive camp. So, no, you can't. I'm sorry."

Sabina made a slight pout. "What about Alex?"

The older boy gave a sidelong glance at him. "He meets our requirements exactly. It's a shame he refuses to go. It tends to take your mind off of dark things. Y'know, improves your health and attitude."

_You prick_. Alex worked his jaw as he could see the light bulb flash above Sabina's head. She fixed a stare at him. "I think you should go to this camp, Alex. You're pretty down lately."

Alex shrugged, trying on an encouraging grin. "Yeah, but I'm getting better now that I'm around you."

She returned the grin. "Nice try, love. You're going to that camp."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"I think it'll be a wonderful experience."

"I think it'll be a terrible experience."

Mr. Pleasure rolled his eyes and ladled a spoon in his soup. "Come now, my boy, the camp sounds better than sitting in boring old San Francisco all summer."

Alex joined them at the dinner table, devouring the clam chowder. The delectable concoction made by Mrs. Pleasure would be one of the things he would miss now that he was being sent to that camp.

"Plus, it's in New York!" Mrs. Pleasure remarked, her kind eyes bright. "Long Island is positively beautiful this time of year."

Sabina shook her head. "I've been trying to convince him, but he absolutely refuses to go." The way she swirled the soup in her cheeks made Alex love her even more. "I think it's because of Percy."

Mrs. Pleasure's mouth formed an O. "Why ever so? Percy Jackson is a bright young man with excellent manners."

Alex shrugged, murmuring something under his breath.

"What was that?" Mr. Pleasure said, leaning forward with an amused smile on his face.

Alex sighed. There was little he could do. "Do I _have_ to go?"

Edward Pleasure laughed. "It's an order, my boy."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Alex had been wrestling his suitcase for the fifth time to get his clothes inside the infernal leather contraption when his phone rang. It was six o'clock in the morning.

He frowned. Who could be calling him at this hour?

"Hello?" he asked into his phone.

Silence on the other end.

"Hellooooo?" he tried again. Nothing. _Must be some forty-year old stalker._ "Not interested, nonce." He moved to hang up.

"Hello, Alex."

The smooth baritone voice sent shivers down his spine. His instincts told him to hang up the damn phone, but his body wasn't listening. He was frozen.

"I must say, I did not expect you to survive the hit last year. After all, those two men were ex-Special Forces. I underestimated you."

"Who are you?" His voice was slightly shaky, and Alex cursed himself for his nervousness.

A mellow laugh. "All in due time, son of my enemy. All in due time. I look forward to meeting you."

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, a vein bursting on his forehead. He hated people like this. Who made their victims squirm just for the pleasure of it.

"Goodbye, Alex Rider."

The line went dead. Well, whoever it was, they knew his name.

He cursed colorfully, throwing his suitcase to the floor and sitting down on the edge of his bed. He wrung his fists in his bed sheets. He hated being at the mercy of another.

"Alex?" a voice called from downstairs. "You ready?"

He swallowed. "Yes, Mrs. Pleasure! I'll be down in a minute!"

As he holstered his carry-on, he swore to find out who that bastard was.

Even if it meant his blood.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"_Hello, this is your captain speaking. My name is James Kirkland, and you are flying American Airlines. Our destination will be New York City, so please fasten your seatbelts…_"

Alex settled into his seat, obeying the captain's commands. He found himself between a burly man the size of a grizzly bear (with the hair to match) and a frail woman who kept on sneezing into her handkerchief. He already hated the trip.

Sabina and the Pleasures had given him a hearty farewell as he boarded the plane. Sabina had cried, of course, and Mr. Pleasure shed what he called "man-tears" as he embraced an embarrassed Alex. Mrs. Pleasure had hugged him, a bit more stoic than both of her relatives, and reminded them that he was only gone for the summer. But the Pleasures were beginning to become family for Alex. It both unnerved him and filled him with joy at the same time.

Alex knew it would feel like an eternity.

It was quite a surprise when Percy appeared, a bit jumpier than usual. When Alex had asked what was wrong, he gave a strained smile and clasped his shoulder.

"Just…er…be careful up there. The sky can be a dangerous place."

The words continued to mystify Alex, but he shoved it to the corner of his mind and leaned back, Oasis' Wonderwall streaming in his head.

Hours passed, and the bitterness he felt for leaving slowly started to subside. Even the incessant heavy metal coming from the bearded bear of a man to his right didn't faze him.

The plane rocked, startling Alex out of his reverie involving Sabina and a few of her girlfriends at the beach. His cheeks burned.

"_We're experiencing slight turbulence, so sit tight; we'll be out of this in no time, folks._"

A few of the passengers began to mutter quietly amongst themselves. Alex frowned and looked out the window. Dark clouds were gathering around the plane, obscuring any vision of the ground below or the stars above. Bright lightning snaked across the horizon, and the plane vibrated as thunder boomed.

Alex's instincts were screaming at him again. _It's just a storm_, he reassured himself. _Like the pilot said, it'll pass_-

The plane shook violently this time, eliciting frightful yells from the passengers. Stewardesses flocked into the cabin, clasping worried individual's shoulders encouragingly. Alex leaned over, stopping a blonde attendant in the aisle.

"What's going on, ma'am?" he asked politely.

"We're in the middle of a storm, sir," she said, tucking a bright strand behind her ear. "Don't worry, this happens many times. We'll be out of it soon, sir, I promise. You'll be fine."

_Yeah, but it isn't me I'm worried about_. He cast a worried glance at the woman beside him, who was shivering and weeping in fright. He clutched her arm softly and stared into her deep grey eyes.

"You're going to be okay, ma'am," he said gently.

She smiled despite tears and gripped his hand.

There was another giant boom, this one too close for comfort. Passengers began to shriek, squirming in their seats and holding onto loved ones. The elderly woman held on tighter to Alex, clutching his blue jacket sleeve almost painfully. Her white hair blew wildly in the wind.

Alex's frown deepened. _Wind…?_

The little crack on the bulkhead that no one had noticed grew into a huge gap, tearing the metal hide of the plane like cardboard. The window side passengers screamed, holding on for dear life as they were open to the elements, the wind and rain blasting against them.

Thunder howled, and Alex looked away, the rain pelting his face like needles. He watched in horror as a male steward screamed in terror as the wind bore him out of the plane. He rocketed out of the gaping tear in the wall and disappeared into the clouds, his blue form vanishing from sight. The winds buffeted the plane, and Alex could tell they were losing altitude. The pilot's irrelevant voice screamed urgently on the intercom, but it was lost in the shrieking of the tempest.

The window side passengers yelled frantically as the machine wobbled, almost sending them into the storm. Alex knew he had to do something. Cursing, he unbuckled his seatbelt, much to the dismay of his elderly companion, and struggled towards the others, an arm lifted in front of his face.

He reached the hole, and his stomach lurched as the sky opened up to him ominously, almost inviting him to jump. He ignored the insane urge and helped the men and women out of their seats. The panicking passengers groped wildly for him, and many times he found himself teetering over the edge.

He sent them all to the other end, where they profusely thanked him. He smiled as hard as he could. "Just stay here, okay? Everything's going to be fine."

The wind gripped him by the collar, like an intangible claw, and dragged him to the precipice, causing the others to scream. Alex, wild-eyed, reached for the edges of the hole. He held on for his life as the howling wind grabbed at him, determined to send him into the storm.

_What the hell is this?_ It was unnatural, the way the storm seemed to vie for his destruction. He gritted his teeth, but his grip was loosening, and the wind was getting stronger.

He cried out as he lost his grip and fell out of the plane.

A massive hand flashed forward and gripped him by the front of his shirt, pulling him back into the interior with tremendous strength. He stumbled forward into the protruding belly of his rescuer.

"T-Thank you," he began.

The giant man he had sat beside grunted, cracking his neck like he was preparing for a fight. Alex squinted, confusion settling into him. Was it just him, or was the man's eyes glowing red?

Before he could look more, the panic overcame his puzzlement, and the screams of the passengers drew him to the gap. Black shapes were flying around the plane, demonic howls sending chills up Alex's spine. Everyone began to step away from the tear, eyes wide and hearts pumping. Somewhere, deep inside their primordial senses, they knew that predators were coming. And that they were the prey.

A meaty hand socked him on the shoulder. Alex yelped, rubbing it furiously.

"You ready for a fight, little boy?" the huge man growled, his jowls quivering.

Alex couldn't believe it. "Sir, now's not the damn time to pick a fight-!"

The man snorted. "Not you, twerp. _Them_."

Alex turned around, and he nearly screamed in absolute terror.

They were almost unbelievably ugly. Judging by their torsos, they were women, or at least part woman. Scabby wings fluttered excitedly as they perched onto the plane, talons wicked and gleaming. They grinned, revealing yellow fangs.

All at once, everyone began to scream, and the monsters dove forward.

The huge man barreled into their path, knocking one aside as easily as one would a pillow. It howled in pain, and Alex winced as bones cracked audibly. The man grunted and clutched one by the neck, while he used his other hand to bat more away from the huddled travelers. Alex was so mesmerized by the spectacle that he almost failed to notice the trio of other beasts moving to flank him.

He whirled, facing them. The courage he had mustered threatened to fall as they grinned evilly and licked their lips.

"Young mortal make great snack," one of them rasped, a sickening crone with matted black hair.

"Kill him! Kill him!" they screamed as one, rushing forward.

But Alex, as many powerful men realized as their life ebbed away, was not easily killed.

He dove under the first one's lunge, punching it in the feathery gut. It squawked painfully and fell, clutching its stomach. The other two redirected their momentum with lightning fast speed, flying towards him. He dodged one's swipe, but sharp talons tore into his legs as he moved aside. He stifled a scream and limped away, clutching his bleeding leg.

He inspected it quickly. It hadn't torn into his vital artery, but if he didn't get it checked out quick, he was in trouble. Alex glared at the leering monsters, feeling slightly indignant. _Wolf would be so very disappointed. _He roared and leapt forward, surprising the monsters for a moment.

A moment was all he needed.

Alex tackled one to the ground, ignoring the smell as hard as he could. He socked the thing in the face twice, with all the power he could conjure. Its bones were harder than a regular human's, but the outcome was the same. He jumped off the unconscious bird-woman and avoided the last one's enraged talon swipes.

"Mortal whelp kill Lescia! I kill mortal!" it howled.

Alex bared his teeth and ducked under its wild blow, bringing his fist up and connecting with the chin. The thing stumbled back, dazed. Alex roared once more and ran forward, pushing the wobbling monster out of the plane. Her screams vanished as the wind bore her away. He gasped for air, the fight taking almost everything he had.

Something tingled on the back of his neck, and he dove to the side just as the first beast he had taken down raked his shoulder with its talons.

"I kill you!" it screamed, tearing at him with wild abandon.

He cried out as another sharp talon tore into his ribs. Alex snarled and kicked it away, his strength leaving him. The bird-woman fell back a few paces, but its determination to kill Alex burned in its beady eyes. It howled and raced forward, wings flapping like an angry chicken.

"Here, catch this."

Alex turned his head, and through bleary eyes he saw the old woman reach into her bag and throw a gleaming object at him. Instinctively, he caught it.

The thing was upon him. Alex gave a cry of rage and slashed upwards.

There was a shimmering sound, and the monster's eyes widened in pain and confusion. There was a pop, and the thing dissolved into ash, which settled onto Alex. He lay back, chest heaving.

_What the hell just happened_?

Someone grabbed him and put him to his feet. Alex's vision nearly went black with the pain.

"Don't haul him up outright. He is wounded." The old woman's voice didn't sound old at all. It was quite young, in fact, firm and strong.

"Those things?" the gargantuan man said, smirking. "Those are little cuts compared to _real_ injuries."

"W-W-Wha…" Things were beginning to get very strange. The rain water poured onto him, soaking him to the skin and cleaning his wounds. Alex was grateful for the water as he struggled to move forward.

As the water poured onto his eyes, the old woman began to change in front of him. Her hunched form grew taller, and the purple knit-sweater hardened into a bronze breastplate. White hair turned to shining black, and weathered features smoothened to an appealing olive. A plumed helmet appeared on her head, and a spear materialized in her strong hand. The grey eyes never changed, though, and they continued to bore into Alex's soul.

To her left, the huge man didn't change height, but the fat became steely muscles, and the beard crumbled away to reveal a strong jaw. The pale white features darkened to a healthy tan, and a leather jacket replaced the black tank top. The biggest sword he had ever seen was strapped to his back, and flaming red eyes that frightened Alex to his very core leered at him from behind dark sunglasses.

"Ares, handle the humans," the woman said, her eyes still on Alex.

"Hey, you can't order me around-!"

She turned to "Ares". He mumbled under his breath and faced the terrified crowd.

"Who are you?" Alex asked, his voice so weak he could barely hear himself.

She smiled kindly. "We are friends, Alex Rider. You can be assured of that."

She walked calmly towards the gaping gap, throwing the corpses of the monsters outside with a single sweep of her hand. At once, a Greek chariot appeared in front of her, manned by horses with…

"Wings," Alex mouthed, shocked.

"Come."

Alex's legs moved on their own accord, the sword still in his hand. He stepped into the chariot, the whole thing feeling unnatural to the boy. "Do not worry," she reassured him. "You are safe with us."

The huge man lumbered into the ride, the space warping to accommodate his mass. The woman snapped the reins, and they were off. As the wind howled against Alex, his body began to tire, the adrenaline rush subsiding. He slumped against the chariot, his eyes failing him.

Alex struggled to remain conscious, but he knew it was a losing battle. "Where are you taking me?" he managed to say as darkness creeped into his vision.

The woman smiled. "To Olympus, of course. To home."

With that insane comment, Alex chuckled, cursed his life, and slept.

**AN: A bit too short, I know. Anyways. Liked it? Hated it? Either/or, please review, and I'll give you some of Grandma's cookies. **


	6. Home of the Gods

**AN: Chapter 6! This one isn't my best. It's a little weak and reveals much more mysteries, but I really hope you enjoy!**

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Hunter Coleman Reese was having the worst day of his life.

In fact, it was so bad he ended up watching SpongeBob reruns with his little brother. The little brother who happened to be fast asleep on the La-Z-Boy. Hunter ran a hand through the little tyke's hair. "Lucky kid," he muttered.

Delonte and some of his other friends asked him if he wanted to hang out at Dave & Buster's, it was, after all, the last day of school. To their (and even his) surprise, he declined. "But Vanessa will be there," Delonte had prompted. "And Carlie. And Janae. You sure, man?"

"I'm sure," came Hunter's reply. "Go on, dude. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

They left him in front of Geary High, and Hunter had never felt so alone in his life. Not since his father died. Or his mother left. So, when he arrived at home, he kissed his aunt on the cheek, he played with his brother for thirty minutes, and slept for four hours.

When he woke up, he discovered that taking a nap still didn't get rid of the thought that plagued his every second since his sophomore year.

Hunter could not keep Sabina Pleasure out of his head.

It all started September of his 10th grade year. The British girl had been the talk of the month; with her foreign charm and general likability. Not to mention her stunning looks. Hunter couldn't believe his eyes when she walked into his math class. No one should be that…beautiful. He closed his eyes, going back to that day…

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

_"Hi, my name's Hunter," he said casually, extending his hand. "Yours?"_

_ Of course, he already knew her name, but an air of ignorance always worked best around girls. She smiled at him, and his heart jumped. "I go by Sabina," she said. He couldn't help but be enchanted by her soft eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Hunter."_

_ Hunter opened his mouth, but nothing came out. _What the hell is wrong with you, man?She's just another girl_. But she was clearly not "just another girl". The way she made him stare at her like a dumb sheep was entirely new for the varsity soccer star._

_ "Uh, so you're from England?" he managed to say._

_ She laughed, and the sound made him melt. "Good deduction, Hunter. Yes, I'm from England."_

_ He tried to keep the blush down to his neck, but from the amused look on her perfect face, he probably failed. "Yeah, um, from…which part?"_

_ He mentally smacked himself. The question sounded unsure rather than inquisitive. Before she could answer, the teacher, a studious man by the name of Mr. Felton, swooped in, the agenda already flying out of his lips. Sabina smiled at Hunter before turning around to face the board._

_ Hunter couldn't keep a smile out of his face either._

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

He opened his eyes, a grin playing on his lips from the memory. Hunter had been so stupid when they first met, but he thought it was one of the best moments of his life.

Then, Homecoming came around, and that was the day he had screwed everything up.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

_"So…it's a no."_

_ Sabina looked away awkwardly, biting her lip. He would've thought it looked cute if not for the anger gathering inside him. She nodded hesitantly. "Yes, Hunter. I'm sorry."_

_ He breathed through his nose, willing the laughter from the others to go away, but they continued to ring through his ears, like the braying of donkeys. He swallowed. "Sabina, are you sure? It's just one day."_

_ "I know, I know," she replied quickly. "It's just that…there's someone else."_

_ Hunter took a deep breath. "May I ask who this person is?"_ So I can beat the crap out of him_._ _Sabina seemed to sense his malicious intent and looked down, a blush on her cheeks. Hunter didn't know what to feel. A part of him wanted to lash out at her bitterly, but another part wanted to sit down and comfort her._

_ Before he could do anything, the bell rang, and Sabina said a hasty farewell and left. Mr. Felton took his earplugs out and bid them a good day. One of Hunter's friends, Bobby, clasped his shoulder. "Better luck next time, bro."_

_ Hunter shook him off, hot tears threatening to fall down his cheeks. Many of the other kids were looking at him and whispering, casting furtive glances over their shoulders. He was being ridiculed, whispered about…shunned. No one did that to him. Not Delonte, not Bobby, and definitely not Sabina._

_ He wiped his face and left the room._

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Hunter?"

"Yeah, little guy?"

"Where's mommy?"

Hunter bit his lower lip. "She's not here, Robby. She left, remember?"

Robby shook his head violently. "No, she didn't. She went to McDonald's. She's getting a Happy Meal for me."

Hunter sighed. "Robby, she abandoned us. She packed her bags without a thought of you or me in her messed up head."

"NO, SHE DIDN'T!"

Hunter dodged his little brother's vicious swipe. "Aunt Summer!" he called frantically. Robby was screaming wildly, kicking his toys around and throwing punches at the air. His little face was a deep red and tears were pouring from his eyes. Aunt Summer bustled in, wrapping Robby in a fierce hug. He struggled for a moment, punching her back and shoulders, but he finally ceased.

"Come with Auntie Summer, okay?" she said soothingly, letting him stroke her long grey

hair. "Let's get your meds."

"I don't need medication."

"Yes, you do, honey," she scolded. "Follow me to the kitchen. After that, we can get you a Happy Meal."

This seemed to calm him down, and he obediently followed her out of the living room. Aunt Summer looked to Hunter, who put up a weak thumbs-up. She gave a caring smile and left, Robby in tow. Hunter sat back down when they were gone, cradling his head in his hands. He got up, went to his room, and slammed the door closed.

He pressed his forehead against the door, screaming his frustration. Sobs tore their way out of his throat.

"Trouble, Hunter?"

Hunter froze. Someone was behind him. His eyes slid over to the dresser against the wall. He kept a switchblade in the first drawer in case of emergency. "Who are you?" he said, all the while sliding over to the dresser.

"If you turn around I will tell you," he said. The voice was deep, charismatic and mellow.

Hunter faced him. The intruder, seated on his bed, was a dark-skinned man in his thirties, dressed in an immaculate black three-piece suit. His hair was slicked back, and a cigar rested in his mouth. He was twirling Hunter's switchblade in his right hand. He cursed inwardly.

The man patted the space next to him. "Sit, Hunter. I mean you no harm."

"How did you get inside of my house?"

The visitor shrugged. "I have my ways. Don't fret. Your lovely Aunt Summer and your darling little brother will come to no harm."

Hunter eyed the switchblade. "How can I be sure you're not lying?"

Another careless shrug. "Sit and I will talk with you."

Hunter reluctantly sat on his bed, maintaining a safe distance from the intruder. The man smiled a charming smile that would have many of the girls in Geary High swooning. Hunter took care to look into his eyes. There was no mirth; only a deep-seated hunger and malice that sent a chill up Hunter's spine.

"Good," he said, regarding Hunter casually. "Very good. My name is Ahriman. It is a pleasure to meet you, Hunter Alan Reese."

Hunter glared. "How do you know my name?"

"I know many things about you, Hunter. I know your brother suffers from Asperger's, your dad died when you were three, your mother left you in the care of your single Aunt Summer-"

Hunter launched forward, a snarl on his lips. Ahriman laughed delightedly as he easily evaded his grab for the switchblade. The boy sent a punch flying towards Ahriman's unprotected face, but before he knew it, he was on the ground, staring up at the man's dark face.

"You're fast," Ahriman chuckled. "Not nearly fast enough. Alex has you trounced in every level, I'm afraid."

Hunter's heart skipped a beat at the name. _Alex has me beat_. A cry of rage came unbidden from his throat, and he wrapped his hands around Ahriman's neck. The Persian's smile dropped a fraction, and he slapped Hunter hard across the cheek. Stars flew in his vision.

"Insolent pup," Ahriman growled. "If your lineage was any different, you and your pathetic family would be strung up on the walls with your guts spilling out."

Hunter glared back, his eyes red. Ahriman smiled, as if nothing had happened. "Such unbridled passion. You love the Sabina girl very much, do you not?" The tears fell at the name, and Hunter groaned.

"Yes, you do," the Persian remarked, turning Hunter's face in inspection. He seemed strangely fascinated at the seventeen-year-old. "Remarkable. You will make a fine servant, Hunter Reese."

"I'll do nothing, you bitch!" Hunter spat.

Ahriman rolled his eyes. "Typical teenage rebellion. We must tame that wild tongue of yours, eh?"

He snapped his fingers, and Hunter's eyes drooped, and he fell asleep. Ahriman picked up the boy, hefting him over his shoulder. He was so fragile, like all humans were. But Ahriman knew this boy was more than human. The Fates had ordained for the Rider boy and Hunter to meet. And now, Ahriman had yet another key instrument in his grasp.

"Rest easy," Ahriman whispered, stroking the boy's hair slowly. "Dark days await, and you are one step closer to ending Alex Rider once and for all."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

When Alex awoke, he thought he had arrived in a dream.

A soft hand was caressing his face, voices like melodic bells tinkling gently around him. His body felt rested, sublime. The boy felt like he had experienced the sweetest rest imaginable. More gentle hands touched him, and he grunted, squirming around. This elicited faint girlish giggling, and Alex opened his eyes.

The brightness nearly blinded him. He hissed, leaning back on the bed with an arm covering his face. The cloth below and on him felt light and silky, and the very texture of it nearly drove him asleep once more.

"Up so soon, brave warrior?" a breathy voice asked.

Alex's eyes widened as he looked around. Five girls in white clothing that looked like togas were gathered around him, giggling and staring at him. He blushed as he remembered the gentle caresses on his face. He looked down on himself and went even redder. He was missing his shirt, first of all, and his lower body was covered in swathes of white linen, like a towel.

"Uhhh…" he said, lost for words.

"You should get your rest," a tall girl with raven-black hair said, pushing him down. Her eyes were a smoldering black. "Your wounds were grievous. You'll need time to recover your strength."

Alex noticed that his torso was smooth and unblemished. His injuries from the other night were gone. He leapt out of bed, much to the surprise of the girls. They tittered as he hastily arranged the cloth around his waist.

"Where am I?" he demanded, his voice breaking. His flush deepened.

"You are in the Healing Houses, of course," a blonde spectacle in turquoise answered. "Pallas Athena and the War God brought you here. We treated you all night long."

He stood horrified as they burst into another fit of giggling. Sabina would _kill_ him if this ever got out. He mumbled a quick goodbye and exited, passing between two columns.

Alex caught his breath. The sky was closer than he remembered. Clouds rose all around him, like snow-capped mountains. He looked up and saw the stars twinkling, and it took his breath away. Greek structures, like the Parthenon and other buildings he saw only in history books, surrounded him. A fountain bubbled happily in a town square, where people milled about, chatting like normal pedestrians.

But this wasn't normal. He wasn't in San Francisco, and judging by the strange men with goat legs and horns, he wasn't in New York either.

"Where am I?" he asked himself, stumbling back in amazement.

"Olympus. Didn't you listen to the girl?"

The voice belonged to the giant brute who had rescued him in the plane. He was wearing the same biker clothes from the night before, but a little less torn and bloodied. The man looked him up and down and smirked.

"Out of the healing temple, eh?" he said. "Love that place. Worth all the injuries."

Alex's mind whirled. "I need some clothes," he managed to say. "And a proper explanation as to what the bloody hell happened last night."

The blocky man frowned. "All right, all right, kid. You'll get your answers." He reached into his gigantic pockets and threw Alex a pair of jeans and a rumpled orange shirt. "Here. You can change in the bathhouse. I'll be waiting here. Big Boss wants to see you."

Alex sniffed the damp clothing and nearly retched. It smelled of wet dog and…other stuff. The man laughed, apparently satisfied at the boy's displeasure. "Had those for a few weeks. I knew I'd find a purpose for it sometime later."

The man walked away, laughing some more. Alex noticed the way the people (who glowed, literally _glowed_, and wore old Greek apparel) would part from his path and bow respectfully. He must've been some sort of important official. Alex narrowed his eyes. For all he cared, he was a big ugly jerk.

Alex turned and clutched the arm of a passing goat-man. "Excuse me; do you know where the bathhouse is?"

The amalgam of man and beast stared at him with unfocused eyes. Alex wrinkled his nose at the smell of alcohol on his breath. "Over…there…" he answered, pointing drunkenly at a large columned building lined with tall shrubs. Alex let the strange being stumble away and entered the bathhouse.

A public bathhouse, it seemed.

Alex walked to an empty stall, determined to keep his eyes straight and face uncolored. Once inside, he slammed the door and fumbled for the lock. Once he was sure he was secure, he turned around, trying to keep his heart beat in check. He could still hear the soft giggling from outside.

He asked himself the question that had been bugging him all morning, and had been relatively unanswered.

"Where the _hell_ am I?"

_Olympus, apparently_. Alex snorted, throwing on the wrinkled shirt. _Olympus. Maybe I should stop by Asgard next door and ask for some directions to San Fran._

_ Wait till the Pleasures get a load of this. _

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The man was waiting for him when he walked outside. He arched an eyebrow.

"Where'd you get the chiton and anaxyrides?"

Alex flushed and looked down at himself. The blue tunic and trousers fit him perfectly. The effeminate goat-man had been true to his word. He still felt slightly uncomfortable in the strange garb, but it would work for the time being. Anything was better than those smelly clothes he had been given. Alex didn't answer the question.

The large man shrugged and led Alex up a flight of stairs. The boy spy was still slightly amazed at the sights before him. Glimmering edifices of marble and quartz perched upon rocky crags, Greek to the very core. It was an island of Mediterranean beauty in the sky.

"Where are we?"

The man frowned. "I keep saying it, kid-"

"I know. 'Olympus'. I still think you're a whack job, by the way. I mean, are we in New York?"

He nodded. "Manhattan. Above it, really. We're sitting right on top of the Empire State Building."

Alex gaped. "You're joking."

"Do I look like the joking type?"

Alex was about to suggest what sort of type he did resemble, but he thought it wise to keep his mouth shut. They passed merry fountains and beautiful scenery, huge statues of muscular men and women, and things that seemed straight out of ancient Greece. In the distance, he could see residencies on rolling hills that put Beverly Hills to shame. He stopped as he spied a large building moving up and down, dust sliding off its exterior.

"What's that?"

The man glanced at it and snorted. "Heracles. Morning work-out routine."

"Is he lifting that building?"

"Yup. Wakes up half the neighborhood, he does."

Alex finally tore his eyes away from the spectacle and followed his guide up another flight of ridiculously polished stairs. At the top of the steps was a blonde girl who looked absurdly out of place in an orange shirt and jeans. Her bright hair was tied into a ponytail and tucked under a baseball cap.

She was sucking on a lollipop, her grey eyes scrutinizing as Alex approached her. They hardened as his guide came into view.

"Ares," she said, with an ounce of respect and an unhealthy amount of loathing.

Ares didn't bother with a response. The girl rolled her eyes and her gaze settled on Alex. He stood off to the side, knowing a history of hatred when he saw one.

"So…" she drawled. "You're our new Argus."

Alex blinked. "What?"

"Annabeth," she said, extending a hand. "Annabeth Chase. I take it you've been indoctrinated?"

Several more blinks. "What are you talking about?"

Annabeth sighed. "I'll take that for a no. Come, follow me."

Alex started, but then stopped to take a glance at Ares. He was already gone.

"When you called him Ares," Alex began warily. "You can't be talking about-"

"God of war?" she cut in. "Yep. He's the real deal."

Alex clutched her shoulder and spun her around. "This isn't a game," he snarled into her shocked face. "I'm tired, confused, and just about ready to kick someone's face in. I'm not one to be played."

Alex felt his surge of anger wear off as soon as it appeared. He slumped, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I went out of control."

The girl recovered from her surprise and started at him pityingly. "I know you are. Everyone is."

Alex remained downcast. Annabeth sighed, shaking the back of her head. "I told Chiron I wasn't good at this sort of thing," she mumbled under her breath.

The boy spy was about to sit down in defeat when something on her shirt caught his eye. Annabeth blushed and was about to turn his face away and possibly give him a black eye, when he pointed at it.

"That shirt," he said, frowning. "I've seen it before. Percy had it when we first met."

Her face brightened when he said that name. "I'll bet he did. It was probably the one I bought him. That bozo always gets his shirts cut, torn, and bloodied."

"You know him?"

She smiled. "He's my boyfriend."

_Great. You must be slightly insane as well_. "So. Olympus. Ares. Heracles." He took a deep breath, looking around. The beautiful spectacles all around him looked straight out of a Hollywood film, but something told him they were real as can be. There was an ancient aura surrounding the place that lent the floating island an authentic air. "Greek mythology. It's all real, I take it."

"Sure is. The gods exist, Alex. They're here, right behind us in fact."

"Gods? As in capital G?"

"Lower case," Annabeth said, frowning. "Chiron never really got into the Big G much. He said it was too complicated and above our level of-"

"I understand," Alex cut in. The last thing he wanted was a theological discussion with Water Boy's girlfriend, who could be a whack job. Well, after everything that happened, _Alex_ could be the crazy one. He pushed the idea out of his head, disturbed.

Annabeth tilted her head. "Wow. I didn't expect this from you."

Alex frowned. "What?"

"You're so calm. Usually kids would scream and cry or run away as fast as they can."

"Yeah, well, I'm not a coward."

Annabeth smiled, a wistful expression on her face. "I'll bet."

They stood there, overlooking the city silently as Alex processed the news. Annabeth could see him struggling through a tide of emotion on his face. A face, Annabeth had to admit, was pretty darn good-looking. He'd have the Aphrodite Cabin swarming around him in no time. _If he even comes with you at all_. Annabeth made sure to give Percy a good slap when they saw each other again. She hated initiation jobs. Seaweed Brain, Will, and the satyr were the ones who were around him for ten damn months.

"So," Alex said, startling her from her reverie. "If I believe all of this, what next?"

She sighed, relieved. "You come with me."

"Where?"

"Where you were supposed to go. Camp Half-Blood."

Ale furrowed his brow. "You mean the summer camp?"

"Right. It's a place where the children of gods and human come together to train. You know, learn to survive."

"Children of gods and humans. You mean demigods."

"Correct." She was surprised at him. Alex Rider was proving to be a perceptive boy.

A look of absolute horror appeared on his face. "Does that mean that I'm…?"

"We don't know that yet," she said quickly. "Chiron wants you as our security guard for some unknown reason. You could be just another human." _At least, I hope so_.

He looked visibly relieved. "Security guard. What exactly am I guarding against?"

"Monsters." She ignored the disbelief in his eyes. "It's true. Honest-to-God monsters. Minotaurs, lamias, sphinxes. You name 'em, nine out of ten want us dead. Eight out of ten want us cooked over a fire first."

He was dangerously pale. "Well. That's not your regular summer camp, is it?"

She chuckled. So, a sense of humor. "You'll be hanging around the actual camp most of the time, so don't worry. Monsters can't get inside the premises. Period. You'll be Chiron's bodyguard and chauffer. No MI6 stuff," she ended with a chuckle.

Alex's heart almost leapt out of his throat. He then realized it was a joke, and that Annabeth Chase had no idea of his involvement with the British intelligence service. He waited for his heart rate to lower down. Alex hoped she couldn't see the fright on his face.

"Are you ready to go?" asked Annabeth.

Alex took one last look around the magnificent scenery. Olympus. The legendary home of the gods. He felt too overwhelmed to experience any giddy feelings of delight. His brain felt like it was slowly roasting on a spit.

"I'm ready."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"And _I'm_ telling you things are going crazy down here! By Chaos, get your pampered head out of the clouds, I mean _literally_ out of the clouds, and listen to me, you horny buffoon!"

Nico di Angelo had never seen his father so angry before.

Sure, there was the time Persephone had flirted with that dead celebrity. Or when Fluffsicle pooped on the Arabian rug. Or even when some "upstart demigods" avoided his wrath. But never like this.

Hades, god of the underworld, seemed _afraid_.

Hades screamed and flipped over the scrying bowl, Zeus' face disappearing in a shower of crystalline water. He slumped down on a Tang Dynasty Chinese chair, his face covered by a hand. Nico knew better than to try to comfort him. His father hated such sentiments.

"Nico," he said finally. "Where is my wife?"

"She's with Midas and the others," he answered. "She told me to tell you."

Hades cursed in ancient Greek. "That _bitch_. Did she say anything else?"

She did, in fact. But he felt it wise to leave the obscenity laced message away from Hades' ears. He shook his head. "No. That was all."

Hades nodded and looked away, his face troubled. Nico never knew his dad to be so…disturbed. But, with Tartarus going haywire and several monsters breaking free from their age-old chains, he sympathized.

Hades motioned over to a seat next to him. "Come. Sit." Nico hesitantly obeyed, sitting awkwardly next to his father. Hades looked equally uncomfortable. What came next surprised both of them. Hades patted Nico on the head.

"Good boy," he said, the words strangled. _This must be what Fluffsicle feels like. _"You are only thirteen years old, but you have proved yourself many times over."

Nico felt a strange sense of utter satisfaction. Hades had given him a compliment. He was _proud_ of him. Even Bianca's sisterly praise didn't amount to the pleasure Nico felt at that moment.

"But I need you to do something for me."

Nico's smile faded. "Yes, father?" It was only a ploy to get Nico to do yet another mission. He should've known better.

"Go up to the land of the living. Go to the blasted camp and find Poseidon's whelp. See if he had accomplished Chiron's task."

Nico frowned. "What task?"

"It does not concern you. Percy Jackson will know. If he says yes, ask for a boy named Alex Rider."

_Alex Rider_. The named sounded slightly familiar. But there were dozens of Riders who entered through the underworld. He must've heard the name somewhere. Suddenly, a hazy image of a kind-faced man smiling down at him appeared in his head. A backdrop of bright colors surrounded them.

"_Do you know the way out of here?_"

Then, he was pulled back into the present. Hades frowned at him. "What? Is something wrong?"

Nico opened his mouth, but then closed it. He shook his head.

"Good. You may leave."

Hades turned away briskly, returning to his silent brooding. Nico turned and left, ignoring the attendants who stopped and bowed in his wake. The vision haunted him every step, and a gnawing unease grew in his stomach.

He remembered the moment it happened. His years in the Lotus Casino were a blur in his memory, but occasionally tiny snippets popped up every month or two. Like numbers flashing on a screen, men from the 60's chatting with modern day kids as if old friends. But, he remembered this particular man because of what they did, and the calm British accent he spoke with.

Bianca and Nico had helped this man escape, although they, at the time, had no idea why one would want to leave such a wonderful place. He had thanked them quickly; he looked like he was in a hurry. The man had given them his name and ran away as if the very devil was on his heels.

The man's name had been John Rider.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**AN: Hm. What could an elite MI6 agent be doing in an enchanted Las Vegas Casino? Feel free to ask questions, and I will be sure to answer them in later updates!**

**Please R&R! Reviewers, check your PM inbox soon, for I will be answering questions through them! **


	7. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood

**AN: Here's a treat. I didn't expect myself to write this one, but I hope you like it. Not much action, sorry about that. Enjoy!**

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

The elevator door opened, and Alex felt immediate relief at the sight of a packed lobby. _Finally. Normal human presence. _Annabeth nodded at the doorman, who looked positively bored out of his mind. Various half-eaten tin cans seemed to be the brunt of his amusement.

The two walked through the lobby and out of the building, cool New York air wafting against Alex's face. He looked up, finally seeing the Empire State Building in its full glory. It was enormous; there was no doubt about that. He shaded his eyes, peering up at the sky above the spire. There was no floating city. Just clouds and open air.

"Come on," Annabeth said, gesturing to a black sedan waiting beside the sidewalk.

Alex pushed his way through the crowd, careful for any probing hands. He made his way to the car, where a bushy-haired man opened the side door for the two. "Another one, Ms. Chase?" he asked as they climbed inside.

"He's the bodyguard," she replied, gesturing to him with a thumb. "We're not sure about his parents yet."

Alex felt a twinge of indignation at the words, but he pushed it down. He was confident about his parentage. Or, at least he thought he was. "Let's just go," he snapped, frowning. The sooner he got time for himself the better. There was too much stuff to think about. The car rumbled to life and pulled away from the curb, joining the steady stream of cars and irate drivers. Alex frowned as a truck behind them honked incessantly and yelled obscenities. It was never this loud in San Francisco.

"How long will this take?" Alex asked, wincing at a particular insult about his mother.

"Not too long," Annabeth answered with an annoying amount of calmness. "Are we ready to go, Archie?"

"Uh huh, Ms. Chase."

The car vibrated, and Alex's eyes widened. He gripped the leather seats. "What the hell is going on?"

"Relax, Rider," replied the girl, rolling her eyes.

There was a roar of the engines, and the scenery outside became a blur as the car reached supersonic speeds. Alex's breath hitched in his throat as he was driven back by the force. "How is this happening?" he cried.

"Magic, Alex," Annabeth answered. "Well, more like instantaneous transitioning on a molecular level, but let's just say magic. Don't worry; the Mist will cover things up."

"What the hell is the Mist?" The sounds of honking receded as the car went even faster. They should've been bumping against cars all over the place, but the ride was smooth. He cursed as the car performed a sharp left. Well, relatively smooth.

"It's what hides magical activity from the regular human eye. They're probably seeing and feeling entirely different things from what we are."

"How come _I'm_ feeling this?" He was mortal, wasn't he? Sure, he was exceptionally talented for a boy of his age, but part divine?

Annabeth frowned and didn't answer. The trip took just seven minutes of uninterrupted travel, the car never changing its speed. When they began to stop, Alex's heart rate slowed down. He snuck a peek outside the window. The area was gorgeous, he had to admit. More like the countryside back in England. Rolling fields of lush grass and a line of giant trees in the distance, all under a robin's egg blue sky. He could hear faint seagull cries, and he knew they were near the ocean. He opened the door and stepped outside, reveling in the cool Atlantic breeze.

"We walk the rest of the way," Annabeth said, sticking her hands in her pockets and thanking Archie. The chauffer smiled, winked at Alex, and drove away. The girl promptly walked down the road, heading east. Alex caught up with her.

"So," he began. He was no slouch in conversing with girls, but with one who seemed to be of another world entirely, he didn't know what to say. "So, are you a demigod?"

She nodded. "I'm a daughter of Athena."

He couldn't resist a chuckle. She looked up at him, eyes narrowed. "What's so funny?"

"I'm just not used to this," he said, scanning the landscape. It was so beautiful, such a contrast from the turmoil inside him. "Demigods? Gods? Not something you live with everyday. Now a pretty girl is telling me she's the daughter of the goddess of wisdom."

She smiled. "You're charming. Still, it takes time. When I first got the talk, about all this, I didn't know what to think. But, I just trusted my gut and followed the lead. Now, I've got a good life, a loving boyfriend, and other demigods who I can call family."

Alex tilted his head. "Aren't you all family already?"

"Gods don't have normal DNA. They're semi-divine beings, and by semi-divine I mean that some of what they do can be explained by science. Sure, we're all the children of a heavenly 'family', but by no way are we entirely blood-related. That's why I can go out with a son of Poseidon and not be an incestuous freak."

"Percy is a son of Poseidon?" Well, that explained the fire hydrant trick from the year before.

"One of the only human ones still alive," she remarked, obviously proud. "He's kind of a hero to us."

A smile tugged on his lips. "What, did he save the world?" He didn't know how many times Alan Blunt had told him that. That he saved the world. Alex knew it was just a cover up of his manipulation.

"Yes, actually. Did you hear about the NYC Disaster a while back?"

He nodded, frowning. Alex recalled Mr. and Mrs. Pleasure sitting at the coffee table, watching the telly in absolute horror. Apparently multiple earthquakes and fires had ravaged the city, destroying infrastructure and buildings everywhere. Miraculously, very few citizens had perished. Before survivors could tell any of the stories, the government came in and hushed everyone up, kicking the repair plan into overdrive.

"Yeah. I heard about that."

"In actuality, a Titan named Kronos had assembled an army of monsters to overthrow Olympus. All of us at Camp Half-Blood were already fighting the bastards, so we defended the city from the Titan and his monsters. He actually made it all the way up to the gods' council chamber. If it wasn't for Percy's efforts, this world would be a very different place."

"He did it all by himself?" Alex was genuinely impressed. He had faced some terrible people in his stint as MI6's hand, but a Titan?

"Well, we all helped," she answered, getting progressively more guarded. "And a boy named Ethan Nakamura had a hand in it, as well as Luke Castellan." She said the name with such neutrality that he knew there was some history between them. "In the end, Percy made a deal with the gods that all demigods must have equal representation in the camp. Many minor gods were included as cabins."

"Cabins are grouped by god?"

"Exactly. It's a fairly organized way of handling things, although rivalries can get quite out of hand. Ares Cabin and Hermes Cabin have a thing against each other ever since the Stoll brothers hijacked Clarisse's chariot."

Alex just nodded. There were many things he would have to learn if he would ever get used to this sort of thing. As they lapsed into silence, Alex took the time to survey his surroundings a little closer. They were on an old farm road, an abandoned settlement lying forlornly to their right. He could see a large oak tree not too far away, a ring of bushes encircled around it. He thought he saw something moving in them, but he passed it off as imagination. The path looked well-worn, with fresh footprints embedded into the dry dirt, all heading forward. Annabeth suddenly veered to the left, strolling down an incline. "Follow me," she ordered.

Alex shrugged. "Yes, ma'am," he muttered. Annabeth was waiting for him on the field, her arms crossed, as if expecting something. Alex lifted his arms exasperatedly. "What?"

"Come join me."

He rolled his eyes and walked forward.

Just when he was about to step beside her, something pushed him back. Thinking it was just a gust of wind, he muttered and continued. This time, the force was harder, and he fell on his butt. Annabeth just watched as he cursed and stood back up again. "What's holding you up?"

Alex ignored the jibe and charged forward. He hung there, his whole body quivering with tension. There was a fierce expression on his face as he willed himself forward. "I could use a little help here," he snarled.

"You have to do this on your own," Annabeth said, not moving an inch.

With a great roar, Alex gave one final push. He barreled forward, catching Annabeth off guard. They fell together, a weary Alex on top of a shocked Annabeth. She tried to wriggle out, but Alex felt like he had run at least ten miles. His muscles refused to budge, even though he wanted to get himself off of her as soon as possible. He had a pretty clear idea what the two looked like.

"Well, look what we have here," an amused voice drawled.

"I never took the daughters of Athena as promiscuous!" an identical voice exclaimed.

"What will Percy say when a little bird tells him of this…coupling?"

"You're revolting, Travis," Annabeth growled, finally succeeding in pushing Alex off of her. She had a fierce blush on her cheeks. "I would tell you it's not what it looks like, but I doubt that would deter you."

Alex could hear the shrug in his voice. "Probably not."

The former spy succeeded in looking up. A pair of black-haired boys stood over them, apparently twins. They both had amused smiles on their faces. "How'd it feel, kid?" one of them asked him.

"Cheeky git," Alex groaned. "We weren't…coupling." He pulled a face when he said the word.

They laughed uproariously. Alex managed to get on one knee. He glared at them. "Who are you anyway?"

"Names Travis," one said. He had a bandage on his forehead. "That's my younger brother, Connor."

"By forty seconds," Connor followed quickly, rolling his eyes. "Hey, you're British."

"No shit, Sherlock," Alex sighed, letting Annabeth help him to his feet. He'd never been quite so exhausted in such a short period of time.

"Huh. He's got a sense of humor, too. Hey, Annie, is he the guy Chiron wanted?"

She scowled at the nickname. "Yeah, he is, _Connie_."

Travis guffawed, slapping his knee as his brother frowned and fidgeted uncomfortably. "Oh, man," Travis gasped. "Never knew you could pull a comeback, Annabeth. Five points for Athena!"

"Whatever. Get out of our way. We need to get to the Big House ASAP."

The twins shrugged simultaneously and motioned to the old-fashioned ranch house resting a flowing river. Annabeth stalked by them, Alex in tow. The twins left, sniggering together. "What's with them?" asked Alex. He hadn't met such an immature pair since he babysat the Pleasure's neighbor in the summer. The seven-year-olds wreaked more havoc than Scorpia at a World Summit. He could see the Stoll's as Tom Harris split in two.

"Travis and Connor Stoll," Annabeth gritted. "Sons of Hermes. They're the self-proclaimed prankster champions of the Eastern seaboard." She shook her head. "Great. Now the rumor that I was 'coupling' with you is going to spread throughout the whole damn camp."

Alex couldn't help a small smile. Annabeth noticed and slapped him on the shoulder. "Ow!" he cried, chuckling. "Like that was necessary." He was pleased to see her forcing a smile out of her face.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

They stepped up to the portico of the old estate, the floorboards creaking under their weight. A blonde boy and a raven-haired girl were seated by a table on the porch. They stopped their conversation to watch Annabeth and Alex come up the steps. The two nodded to Annabeth and gave Alex curious stares. He ignored them and followed his guide as the door opened.

He was greeted with the sight of a comfy living room, an array of sofas centered on a fireless hearth. Various pictures of unknown people hung on the plainly decorated walls. There was an old arcade station next to the salon, and a table where a half-eaten sandwich rested on a plate. A door opened, and the two swiveled to face it.

A gruff-looking man wearing a tweed shirt and plainly past his prime wheeled his way forward. The wheelchair was old and rickety; Alex wondered how he didn't just fall on the spot. From behind clean lenses, inquisitive eyes peered at Alex in fascination. The other was a red-eyed man in a greasy Hawaiian shirt, his pot belly sticking out from the bottom of the bright hem. He held a bottle of wine in one hand, and there was a wobble to his step.

Alex frowned. The man was obviously drunk (not even past noon), but despite the redness and drooping of his eyes, they gleamed with a strange intelligence that seemed…unnatural. The man threw off his slippers and regarded Alex, passing the bottle to the disabled one.

"So…you're Alex Rider," he drawled, his voice clear, if not a little drawn out. "Strange. You look just like your-"

"Picture," the man in the wheelchair cut in, putting on a tight smile. "Although you have aged considerably since it was taken. We welcome you to Camp Half-Blood, Mr. Rider."

Alex nodded slowly. He had no idea what to expect from the drunkard and the handicapped one, but they seemed nice enough. One was intoxicated, clearly, but they weren't shooting at him, at least. "My name is Chiron," the kinder man said, reaching out a hand from his wheelchair. "You may call me Mr. Brunner, if you like."

Alex shook it. A firm grip, not threatening, but assuring. The drunken one held out a hand, and Alex took it. The man's arm was limp in his grasp. He extricated himself from the boy's hold as if Alex had been digging in animal manure. "I am Dionysus," he said. "God of wine, revelry, and everything else essential to mankind's survival. It is a pleasure."

Dionysus. Alex whirled, looking at Annabeth. She nodded. When he faced Chiron, he did the same. A god. An actual god. His second of the day, actually. He had seen two living, breathing gods from Greek mythology.

Dionysus arched an eyebrow lazily, expecting some sort of answer. _He wants me to heap loads of praise on him, probably,_ Alex though drily. _And to kiss his feet_.

"Are all of you like this?" he opted to say.

Dionysus frowned. "Excuse me?"

"I mean, Ares was a pompous jerk, and you're a drunkard, so I was just wondering if all of the other gods were equally unlikeable. And ill dressed."

Judging by the deathly silence that followed soon after, it was like Alex had taken a dump on the floor and kicked it in the god's face. He could hear Annabeth swallow, and Chiron's head was in his hands. Dionysus' lips twitched. Alex prepared for the smiting.

"HAHAHAHAHA!" the god roared, catching everyone by surprise. "Great Gaea, that just made my unbelievably _dull_ day!" He was wiping tears out of his eyes. "Boy, I really hope you're my kid."

Alex glared at him. "I know who my parents are."

Dionysus' laughter died down. His eyes filled with something like remorse, and…something else. "Of course. My apologies."

Chiron cleared his throat. "Alex, I assume you know what we at Camp Half-Blood are all about."

Alex nodded his head for probably the millionth time. He felt like one of the sport bobbleheads Mr. Pleasure was so fond of collecting. Chiron smiled and gestured to one of the sofas by the fireplace. "You may sit, if you want."

Alex took a seat, Chiron close behind. The man smiled at Annabeth the way a father would to a daughter who just won a race. Annabeth grinned back and left, giving Alex a lingering look. The door shut in her wake.

The moment the door closed, Mr. Brunner moved. The man jumped with surprising swiftness that was deceptive of his age, leaping off of his wheelchair like it was scalding hot. Alex's eyes widened as the seemingly lame legs morphed into strong equine forelegs, followed by a horse's flank and hind legs. He trotted around the living room, stretching out his body and tapping his black hooves across the floor. "That feels much better," he sighed.

Alex quickly shut his jaw from where it scraped the floor.

"I'm sorry for the suddenness," Chiron apologized. He removed his glasses, revealing sharp brown eyes. "I didn't want to have to drag out the whole process."

Alex shook his head dumbly.

Dionysus snorted. "Sure, two actual Greek gods and you insult them in the face. You see one single centaur and you look like you passed a stone."

Alex recovered quickly. "A centaur. Right."

"There is more to this world that you have ever known. Not even the reaching arm of MI6 could've brought you this knowledge without our assistance."

Alex's world snapped back to reality. "MI6?" he remarked. "What do you know about MI6?"

Chiron sighed. "Don't worry, Alex. We're not out to get you. You can stop preparing to bolt out the door."

Alex visibly relaxed, but the tension on his face remained. "What do you know about MI6?" he repeated.

"We know they employed at the age of fourteen," Dionysus exclaimed. "You were very talented for your age, a gift that was more important to them than the fact you were an underage child. You were forced to do several missions after your uncle died, many of them bringing you to the brink of death."

"You literally were at one point," Chiron continued. "A Scorpia assassin shot you in the chest, nearly piercing your heart. I recall that you had vowed to leave the intelligence agency."

Dionysus scoffed. "Of course, they didn't care much for that. They sent you on mission after mission, and it was only when your caretaker, Jack Starbright, unfortunately died, that they decided to let you go…" The words died on the god's wine-stained lips.

Alex was deathly pale. His fists were balled, and blood seeped from where his nails dug into the flesh of his palm. Chiron shot a glare at Dionysus, who looked away awkwardly and took another swig from his bottle. The centaur laid a gentle hand on Alex's shoulder. "Although he might be one of the oldest beings in existence, he still has not mastered his own tongue. I apologize for him."

It took a while for the boy to respond. He unclenched his hands, his fingers shaking from the effort. Alex stared at the small pinpricks on his palms. "What do you want from me?" His voice was very quiet.

"I had a bodyguard by the name of Argus. He was a faithful and loyal individual, and I called him a friend. He died recently, and his death has left a hole in our society. We would like you to be his replacement."

"What makes you any different from MI6?"

Chiron's eyes were filled with much sadness. "We are not manipulative, Alex. Although you may leave if you wish, I think you should know that there are forces out there who wish you dead. This is your only refuge, I'm afraid."

"My family?" There. He had said it. The Pleasures were like family to him. A weight seemed to lift from Alex's chest.

"They are safe," the centaur assured him. "Our allies monitor their household, and we have placed wards around the establishment to prevent any supernatural attack."

"Why do they want me dead?" Alex thought of the strange voice who had conversed with him the other day. Was he one of the ones who wanted him gone?

"We can't tell you everything now, Alex. I feel you are already…what do the kids call it? Ah, yes. I feel you are already 'brain dead'. We have a bed, a shower, and fresh clothes waiting for you already."

Alex felt blessed relief. The Glorious Trinity. "Where do I go?"

"One of the campers will guide you. He should be arriving here any moment."

The door opened, and in walked a familiar face.

"Alex!" Will Solace cried, smiling happily. "Long time no see, dude!" He embraced Alex, who was still too surprised for words. The blonde boy looked him up and down. "Whoa. Where'd you get the old school clothes?"

Alex realized he was still wearing the ancient Greek garb he received from Olympus. "Uh…"

Will grinned. "Don't worry, bro. We'll get you the local attire." Will waved at himself. He was wearing the orange camp shirt and jeans. "Like so."

"We meet for Capture the flag at six," Chiron told them. "Do not be late. And Mr. Solace," he said quickly.

"Yep, Big C?"

"Take care of him."

Will nodded solemnly and led Alex out the door. Alex once again relished in the sea breeze. Will hurried down the steps, waving Alex forward. "C'mon, man! No time to waste. Let's get you ready so we can start the tour. I've been given a free pass today _just _so I can show you around. Man, Arnold is going to be so pissed at me-"

"You were trying to see if I was a demigod, weren't you," Alex interjected, leaning against the porch. "That day by the creek."

The excited look melted off of Will's face. He slumped dejectedly. "Yeah. Didn't do a really good job, did I?"

Alex shrugged. "Could've done better."

Will flailed his arms exasperatedly. "Look, Alex. I'm sorry. I tried telling you all year, but you kept on avoiding me. You even changed lunches to be with Sabina so you couldn't talk to me."

Alex felt a little guilty for the move. It was low, he had to admit. "I forgive you, Will. I think I forgave you a long time ago."

His friend smiled. "Thanks. Anyways, let's get you to your new room."

Alex followed Will down the clear path, passing by a sand volleyball court. Girls in bikinis played avidly in the sun, and Alex had to physically turn Will's head to keep him from tripping over his tongue. They continued down the road, the sounds of laughter and ringing metal floating on the wind. Their destination was a cabin field, by the looks of it. Large wooden cabins arrayed in a U-shape around an unlit bonfire loomed before them. There were several campers already lounging about, some dressed in Greek military garb. Alex could feel eyes on him as he followed Will down the rows of cabins. He hears several catcalls and whistles, which was apparently hilarious to Solace.

A group of mean-looking boys in armor crossed their arms and surveyed Alex, glaring at him from behind Corinthian helmets. Alex met their stares and pointedly looked away. He could sense them bristling in indignation. Will noticed the exchange and leaned over to Alex. "Ares Cabin," he whispered. "Don't mess with them. They have a tradition of breaking at least one bone in every newcomer who pisses them off."

Solace grinned and pointed to the other side of the bonfire. "Now, _that's_ a cabin you should devote your attention to."

A huddle of very good-looking girls (and even some boys) lounged by a very feminine cabin, sneaking glances at Alex and giggling. Many of them were his age, but even the youngest ones looked like they belonged on billboards or major films. Alex pursed his lips and tore his gaze away. Will sighed longingly. "You've got half the Aphrodite Cabin wanting to get into your pants, man. You should consider yourself lucky."

"I already am," Alex replied, thinking of a certain girl in San Francisco.

"Oh yeah," Will said reluctantly. "About that. Aphrodite girls have a tendency to be…_enchanting_, if you know what I mean. Don't let them get too close, or you'll regret coming here. Plus, you're going to feel terrible around Sabina. Trust me, I've got a girl back home. I felt horrible knowing that I had a stint with an Aphrodite girl who laid it on me thick."

"I'll be careful."

"That's what they all say. Me included."

The two of them finally stopped at a trio of huge cabins at the forefront. Will pointed at the one with a very oceanic theme. "That's where you're staying. Go on, I'll wait for you out here."

Alex stepped up to the cabin. It smelt of the beach in summertime, mixed with various aromas that were altogether pleasing to the senses. Smiling, he opened the door and walked in.

"Alex!"

The smile dropped. "Percy."

Percy Jackson seemed rejuvenated, healthier and much more excited than his rather obnoxious demeanor a few days ago. Percy embraced him like a brother, and Alex responded, albeit with less back thumping. The pieces clicked in the boy's head. "This is Poseidon's Cabin, isn't it?"

"Sure is," said Percy, looking around the spacious room proudly. "You'll love this place, I guarantee it."

Alex had mixed feelings for the older guy. He wasn't a bad person (although he still held a grudge for the fire hydrant dousing), but Percy had been one of the ones to drag him into this mess. Will and Arnold had been also, but they hadn't thrown MI6 into the mix. He watched as Percy rambled on about the history of the cabin, thumping the dark blue bed where his half-brother had slept in. Maybe Alex was being unreasonable. If there was a time to make amends, it was now.

"Thanks for this, Percy," Alex tried. "It means a lot."

Percy smiled, and his sea green eyes warmed with gratitude. "My pleasure, Alex. You know, I didn't really like you at first, but you're an okay kid."

Alex fought back a grin. _I guess we aren't all that different_.

"Annabeth thinks you're okay, too," he offered, handing Alex the camp uniform. It was just his size. "She seemed kind of flustered for some reason, though. Did anything happen?"

_Oh, crap_. "Erm, she can talk to you about that." He prayed that the Stoll idiots wouldn't see Percy any time soon. "I need to shower real quick." Alex looked around the room, desperate to get out.

"Showers are outside," Percy told him. He looked puzzled. "Are you okay, Alex?"

"I'm perfectly fine. See you later."

Alex bustled out of the cabin, thankful for the open air. He sincerely hoped Percy wouldn't kick his ass when he heard about his fall on Annabeth. He saw a row of wooden buildings that must've been the showers and raced for them, literally tingling with anticipation.

By God, did he need a rinse.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Fifteen minutes later, he walked out of the showers, feeling much better. Despite the Aphrodite girls who tried to peep on him, the experience was altogether pleasing. He didn't really like the color orange, but it suited him well enough. He once again tried to ignore many stares as he approached Will, who was attempting to flirt with a trio of girls and was failing.

"So, the monster was, like, right on top of me, but I swerved away just in time, putting three arrows into the sorry mother. Of course, I had my own share of scars, but I was victorious in the end, like always. Would you like to see them?"

Alex came up from behind him, winking at the girls. They giggled, and Will flushed with pride. "You do? That's funny, because no one else seems to want to when I ask them. Here, you're going to have to get in close because some of them are below my waist-"

Alex gripped his friend's shoulders and yelled in his ear. Will jumped about three feet in the air and reached for a nonexistent bow behind his back. He dropped to the dirt, squirming away and spitting curses. The girls were full out laughing now, their gaze drifting off to Alex. They walked away, saying bye to Alex and smiling at Will, who slumped on the ground. Alex helped him up.

"You totally ruined my cred, dude," Will muttered. "I almost had those girls."

"They weren't even Aphrodite," Alex remarked. They were attractive, but they didn't have the pounds of make-up the Aphrodite girls had.

"Demeter," grumbled Will. "Still, man, I _had_ them."

Alex shook his head. "Sure. So, aren't you going to give me a tour?"

Camp Half-Blood was bigger than Alex expected. Will led him around the campus, pointing at landmarks and telling him interesting historical facts. The camp was pretty old, serving demigods for more than fifty years, at the least. However, it was the recreational sites that grabbed Alex's attention. They passed by a huge rock wall, the top of which seethed with boiling lava. Will had to drag Alex away from the spectacle.

They walked by a giant arena, where Alex could hear clashing metal, battle cries, and even the occasional bark of a dog that must've been the size of Godzilla. Will showed him the mess hall, the North Woods, and even a stable that housed live pegasus. Alex had petted one and given it a treat. "His name's Blackjack," told Will. "He's Percy's pegasus. I think he likes you."

After the tour, Alex's head was about to explode. Will steadied him as he led him into the cabin, Percy immediately at his side. "What happened?" asked Jackson.

"I think he's on brain overdrive," Will explained, half-smiling. "I showed him the whole camp."

Percy clucked his tongue. "Damn. Do you have any water on you?"

Will blinked. "You're the son of _freaking_ Poseidon."

Percy rolled his eyes and opened a nearby mini fridge, where he stored several water bottles. "Here," he said, bringing the bottle to Alex's lips. "Drink up."

Alex gratefully swallowed the ice cold water, closing his eyes. Percy let go, letting his friend hold it on his own. "By the way, the Stoll twins came by while you were gone."

Alex choked on the water. Will had to help wipe the liquid from his new shirt. "I'm sorry?" Alex said, coughing.

Percy smirked. "I said the Stoll twins came by. They said that they caught two kids coupling near the boundary earlier today."

Alex coughed some more, while Will frowned at the word. "Coupling? What does that even mean?"

"I can explain," Alex said, downing the last of the water. "Those dimwits had no idea what they were-"

"Take it easy, Alex," Percy chuckled. "I know. I talked with Annabeth. I could've cooked an egg on her cheeks. Sheesh, it was like she never had a boy touch her before."

Will waggled his eyebrows. "But we all know the truth on that matter."

Percy worked his jaw and punched Will on the shoulder. The Apollo boy fell to the floor in mock-agony. "So, Alex," the sole denizen of Poseidon Cabin asked him. "Are you ready to head out?"

Alex wiped his mouth. "Head out for what?"

"Capture the Flag. It's nearly six."

Alex groaned and got up. "Fine. I'll play that pathetic little game. Just don't expect me to try too hard." It was getting easier to lapse into playful banter with the two. They were becoming more like his friends every second.

Will and Percy traded looks. "It's not like regular PE Capture-the-Flag," Will said a little indignantly. "It involves _actual-_"

Percy waved a hand. "Alex is right. It's practically nothing." He faced the former MI6 gent reassuringly. "It's just a little recreational game we play for fun. A piece of cake."

Alex nodded, getting up and adjusting himself. He didn't see the smirk that passed between his two friends. They went out, joining the stream of talking campers that headed to the forest. Alex spied Travis and Connor fake-smooching, imitating Alex and Annabeth's position earlier. They drew a bunch of laughs, not all of them joking.

Will left to join his cabin, while Percy dragged him to walk with Annabeth and a few others kids. "Guys, this is Alex," Percy introduced. Alex smiled and traded handshakes with several of them, sharing a secret grin with Annabeth. They continued to walk, and they almost reached the forest edge when a something blocked their path.

She was big for a girl, not fat, but fit and muscular. Beaten Greek armor made her look like a fierce Amazon warrior. Fiery eyes stared unimpressed at Alex, but faded to something like respect when Percy stepped up. "Jackson," she grunted. "Who's the runt?"

"He's our new security guard," Percy explained, clasping Alex's shoulder. "Remember Argus' disappearance? Well, Alex is the one who's going to take his place."

Several of the Ares cabin behind her snorted and laughed. The girl arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Him? Argus was a freaking killing expert. _And_ he had a hundred eyes. You think he's going to perform as well?"

Percy shrugged. "He'll cross that bridge when he gets there. Now, Clarisse, if you'll step out of our way…"

A tan boy that was taller than Alex by a head stepped up to him, staring him down. "I want to test him, La Rue," he sneered, leering down at Alex. "I don't think he has the balls to replace Argus."

Percy rolled his eyes and pushed past him. "I don't have time for this, Slater," he groaned. "We'll settle it during the game."

Slater regarded Percy for a moment. Percy stared back, looking a little bored. The Ares cabin member drew his gaze away and spat at Alex's feet. "Armor up, kid. I'll be looking for you."

Alex watched the Ares kids walk away. "What's up his ass?" he mumbled.

"Slater's thinks he has something to prove," Annabeth explained, shrugging. "Don't worry, he's got more bark than his bite. Just watch out for his vertical swing. It's nasty."

Alex frowned. "Vertical swing?" They entered the forest, the cabins splitting up to two different teams. Alex's eyes widened in horror as the rules were blared out throughout the woods. "Wait, just what kind of Capture-the-Flag is this?"

A Hephaestus boy gave him a sword, a breastplate, and a tarnished helmet. "We call it Get-the-Fucking-Flag-Before-Clarisse-Guts-You-With-Her-Spear. Good luck, man."

Percy led Alex away into the other side of the creek, joining the Hephaestus, Poseidon, Athena, and other cabins as they raced to protect their flag. Alex, however, was still thoroughly confused. "Percy, wait!" The older boy had already disappeared.

Soon, the forest was eerily silent, and Alex stood ankle-deep in the creek shallows, his sword hanging at his side. "I didn't even get a snack yet," he grumbled, kicking some pebbles. He sat down on a boulder, wondering what he should do next. If Alex heard correctly, unintentional maiming was perfectly okay in this game, but no sane summer camp would allow such rules, would it?

There was a sound on the other side of the creek. Five Ares boys were sprinting full throttle, swords and round shields up and ready. The lead warrior spotted Alex sitting on the rock and ordered his friends to stop. The boy ripped off his helmet, revealing a sweaty and red-faced Slater.

"Look who it is," he sneered. "Alex."

"Hey, Slater," another boy snidely remarked. "Let's beat his ass and string him up on one of the trees before Jackson comes around."

Slater smiled evilly. He and the others waded through the creek, swords up and intentions clear. Alex stood shakily. He had never fought with a bronze sword in his life. He held it up, and apparently he was doing it wrong, judging by the scathing jeers.

"C'mon, Alex!" Slater roared, brandishing his weapon. The sword gleamed dangerously in the setting sun. "I'll rip you apart!"

Slater gave a vicious yell, and faster than Alex could blink, the blade flashed down in a wicked arc, aimed straight for his head.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

**AN: Ha! The battle will be in the next chapter, so you guys are going to have to wait until then . Anyways, I like the reviews, just keep them coming. They mean the world to me!**

**P.S. There won't be anything between Annabeth and Alex. I'm trying to develop more of a sibling bond between them if anything. Sorry for people who expect that! **


	8. Prove Your Worth

**AN: Chapter 8! It sort of seems rushed in the end, but I hope you like it!**

The sword seemed almost beautiful. The sunlight danced on its polished surface, gleaming and glittering as it fell ever closer to its destination. Time slowed down, and death started to seem like a pleasant alternative.

Then the danger returned, Alex cursed, and the blade came within an inch of the boy's skull. Alex dove to the right, the sword whistled by, and Slater roared his disappointment. Alex backed away, dodging the camper's vicious swipes. "Fight me, coward!" the Ares boy snarled. "Be a man!"

Alex shook his head. "I have nothing against you." _Despite you being an obnoxious prick_.

The campers laughed derisively. Slater snorted. "It's part of the game, dude. You either fight for the flag or you get your ass kicked." The Ares brute swung his sword. "You picked the wrong fight, Brit."

Alex rolled his eyes. _You started the fight, dunce head._ He looked around, searching for any avenues of escape. The campers were circling around him evilly, teasing him and jeering like hyenas. Alex had only seconds until he was completely surrounded, and his only route of survival was directly behind him. He spat at Slater's feet. "You don't know anything about me." Like hell he would escape. Slater grinned ferociously.

"That's more like it. Get him!"

They moved abnormally fast, _surprisingly_ fast, but Alex was used to being surprised. He timed the first one's strike, angling his body to avoid the blade. He punched the kid in the face, the impact hard and brutal. Alex's fist throbbed. The camper had an unusually strong jaw, but the effect was all the same. The boy went down, nursing his face.

Alex heard a keening whistle, and he ducked in time to dodge a terribly fast sword swipe. _Jeez, you'd think they were out for my blood_, he though drily. Alex caught the boy's fist and kicked him in the stomach. The bronze breastplate absorbed the blow, but it was enough to give Alex time to elbow him in the nose. Blood spurted from the wound, and a second one fell.

Pain exploded on the back of Alex's head. He cried out and whirled, hands up. The remaining three pounced on him, hollering like madmen. Alex threw a roundhouse at the nearest one, taking him down, but Slater and another camper got past and tackled him to the ground. Alex winced as Slater punched him in the gut, the shock passing through his ancient and used armor easily.

He moved away as the other Ares cabin member kicked the ground where his face was moments before. There was a glint of metal on the boy's waist as he prepared to smash again. Alex dove forward, grabbing the knife from the belt and scrambling to his feet. He backed away, the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The two campers studied him, eerily silent. Alex could tell that although they were still kids, they seemed born to fight. It unsettled Alex, but also gave him a reassuring feeling. He knew how to take down bastards like them. He'd done it all the time.

Slater motioned for the other to go. The boy nodded and rushed Alex with that same abnormal speed. Alex was too slow, this time, and the blade cut into his cheek. Alex palmed the small wound, glaring at the camper. The olive-skinned camper glared back.

Alex removed his helmet and breastplate, throwing it on the ground in frustration. Such equipment hampered movement, Wolf had always said. The sword hanging at his waist was useless; it was rusty with old age and misuse. He stood in his shirt and jeans, crouching in preparation. The Ares boy shifted on his feet, unsure of his opponent. It was common knowledge that armor was essential in a fight. "Go for it, Damien," Slater urged. "He's a goner."

Damien charged, encouraged. Alex moved out of the way this time, letting the boy curse and trip on his extended foot. He pounced on the fallen Ares son, clutching his pressure point beside his neck. Damien groaned and went limp underneath him. Alex felt so much better without the added weight of the Bronze Age armor. He faced Slater, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning cheekily. "Now it's just you and me, mate."

Slater curled his lip. "Aren't you mighty proud of yourself, taking down a bunch of fifteen-year-olds." Alex was momentarily shocked. The campers had moved much too fast and experienced for kids of their age. _You forget that they're not fully human, Alex. They carry the blood of gods. More specifically, the bloody war god._ Alex frowned and crouched, taking Slater seriously.

Slater cracked his neck, rolled his shoulders, and walked forward, unnervingly calm. Or cocky. Alex was hoping for the latter. They circled each other, watching the opposite's movement with scrutinizing glances. The only sound was the clashing for nearby battle, the wind between the trees, and the merry bubbling of the creek beside them.

Slater moved, his body a dark and ferocious blur. Alex spun, avoiding the slash and striking for his face. The son of Ares dodged the punch with annoying ease, bringing his shield up and charging forward. Alex's eyes widened. If the rounded metal shield hit him square on, the force would knock him clean out, and probably break a few ribs in the process.

His brain on overdrive, Alex leapt. Slater hesitated, not expecting the move. Alex's foot landed on the top edge of the shield, his body framed against the setting sun. Slater knew the kick was coming, but he was powerless to stop it. He grunted as the sole of Alex's shoe slammed against his face, and he went crashing down. Alex leaned down, and before Slater could react, the blade of a knife was pressed against his neck.

"Do you submit?" Alex gasped, his heart beating violently.

Slater glared up at him, his black eyes smoldering with hatred and shame. His face twitched as he thought up of something to say. "Spare me the banter," Alex hissed, digging the knife deeper, but not enough to draw blood. Something like fear shone in Slater's eyes. "I'll say it again. Do you submit?"

Slater swallowed. "I…I submit."

Alex released him, getting up and letting the boy stand. Slater was breathing heavily as he stood to his feet shakily. He rubbed his neck, refusing to meet Alex's eyes. "You got lucky."

Alex shook his head. "You just don't know when you're beat, do you?"

Slater's eyes flashed. "A son of Ares does _not_ get beaten. Never."

"Like father like son, eh?"

Slater brandished his sword. "This isn't finished. You were stupid to let me go. This game only ends when the opposing flag is captured. I won't rest until I have you under my foot."

"Out of the way, people!"

The Stoll brothers were racing across the creek, splashing in the shallows as a group of kids from Nemesis pursued them closely. Alex's heart leapt. The twins had his team's flag. Their fight momentarily forgotten, the two rushed towards the Stoll's with two very different intents. Slater roared and jumped into the midst of the Nemesis kids, scattering them. Alex blocked the brothers' progress, twirling his knife in his fingers. Connor eyed the small dagger. "Wow. I'm so scared."

"Out of the way, Rider!" Travis warned, waving the flag proudly. "We don't want to hurt you-!"

Alex rushed forward and grabbed the flag out of Travis' hands, running the opposite direction as fast as he could. Travis stood there, dumbfounded. "Did I…did I just get pick pocketed by an unclaimed kid?"

"No time to contemplate, bro, let's get him!"

Alex looked back. The Stoll brothers were gaining on him, and _fast_. Their legs seemed to be floating off the ground as they ran. A cold chill ran down Alex's back, and he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. Something flashed by in the trees to his left, and Percy was there, one side of his shirt completely ripped off.

"Hey, Jackson!" Travis laughed, damnably easily considering the fact that he was running at full speed. "Annabeth just couldn't get her hands off you, could she?"

"Alex, run!" Percy ordered, blocking the twin's path. Their easygoing demeanor quickly shed as the son of Poseidon crouched, swinging his sword threateningly. "Now, what did you say about Annabeth?"

"Whoa man, that was Travis; you can beat his ass all day if you want-"

"Okay, bro, that's _real_ nice of you, but I'll let that pass since you're younger, you know…"

The rest of the conversation faded away as Alex ran through the trees, flag in his hands. Two Hephaestus boys caught sight of him, and they proceeded to escort him. "Thanks, dude," one of them gasped. "The Stoll bastards swiped it right under our noses. We thought we already lost-"

"Less talking," Alex cut in. "More running!"

They jumped over a ledge, the flag post on the top of a hill in their sights. Alex's spirit fell as he saw what lay ahead. A large group of the opposite team was finishing off the flag defense team, knocking them out with hard hits from their weapon hilts. Alex grimly watched as Annabeth went down cursing, two Ares boys gripping her arms. He could feel the fear seeping from the Hephaestus boys pores beside him. "Here's what we're going to do," Alex whispered to them. "We're going to circle around and keep the flag with us. Let's hide in that grove over there until they leave. Hurry, before they find out-"

Annabeth's head snapped up, meeting Alex's own. A tall Ares member followed her gaze, eventually sighting a very frightened Alex. "Bollocks. Okay, we're going to run. Ready?" Alex looked behind him to see his so called "escort" fleeing for their lives.

The Ares child took off the helmet, and Clarisse la Rue grinned at Alex. "If it isn't our resident bouncer! Glad you could join us, kid. As you can see, we've already got half of your team, and…" she frowned at the flag in his hands. "I knew I couldn't trust those Stoll idiots. Catherine, Brock, get him!"

_Brilliant. More Ares brutes_. Alex dodged Catherine's javelin stab, batting it aside and pushing her away. Brock came at him, his sword up. Alex rammed the butt of the flag against the boy's helmet, knocking him clean out. The seventeen-year-old stopped in his tracks, cursing inwardly. Clarisse was standing in his way, a gigantic spear clutched in her hand. Her potentially attractive looks were hardened into a mask of fury and concentration. "I underestimated you," she said, nodding. "Not just anyone can take down two children of Ares in five seconds."

"Yeah, well, I also had Slater and his little boy band groaning on the ground a while back," he taunted. It was best to rile their anger so that they grew more emotional during a fight. "You sure they're war god material?"

Clarisse's eyes turned into molten lava. Alex became painfully aware of how imposing she looked in her armor. One could barely see her face inside the steel Corinthian helmet when she stood against the sun's rays. Alex instinctively backed away, his heart beat increasing. Clarisse twirled her vicious looking spear. "Do you know what this spear is called?" she asked, her voice deathly quiet. "Its name is Maimer. I got it after Percy broke my old one. It's not as good, but trust me, it gets the job done."

"Maimer, huh," Alex swallowed. "How quaint."

Clarisse roared bestially. She moved fast, faster than Slater. The Ares girl rammed into Alex, and it felt like a freight train had slammed into him. Alex felt the vague sensation of flying through the air.

Then, he hit a tree, and his vision blacked out for a moment.

He could feel her taking the flag out of his hands, but he was too weak to stop her. He mumbled incoherently and struggled to get up. Something hard hit him upside the head, and he fell back down, crying out in pain. He heard someone call his name, Annabeth maybe, but he didn't respond. Alex welcomed the darkness, and the outside world faded into oblivion…

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Alex? Alex, are you okay?"

Alex opened his eyes groggily. He grumbled, trying to get up, but failing. Firm hands took him by the shoulders and helped him up. There were multiple voices around him, murmuring quietly as he stood shakily to his feet. "What…what happened?"

Annabeth was in front of him, searching his eyes worriedly. She was sweaty; her blonde hair was matted to her head. Soot covered her face, and he discovered a small bruise on her brow. He pointed at it weakly. She noticed and shrugged. "Just an Ares boy being an Ares boy. It'll heal. I'm more worried about you. That should've broken your back, Alex."

He was slowly recovering, something that surprised the former spy. The impact had been tremendous, not to mention painful. Alex shook his head. "I'm a tough boy."

Annabeth frowned. "This isn't a joke. You could've been seriously hurt-!"

"Did we win?" Alex interrupted, stumbling through the throng of campers. He waved away any attempts to help him. "Did we get their flag?"

Annabeth sighed. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm dead serious."

"If it makes you feel any better, Percy came close. Being invulnerable and all, he was pretty much skipping through the forest while Apollo kids shot arrows at him. He came within a quarter of a mile when they sprung a trap, and he fell down a deep hole. That's why I call him Seaweed Brain."

_Great. For all my efforts, we still didn't win_. "Did Clarisse score for them?"

A nod. "Yeah. I would advise caution after this game, especially when you see her later, but I doubt you'll listen."

Alex bared his teeth. "You got that right." He couldn't remember the last time he had been so thoroughly humiliated by a _girl_. Daughter of Ares or not, Alex would find a way to get back at her for that. A chance at making a good first impression on the other campers and he ended up getting thrown against an oak tree. He tried to avoid the gazes of the younger kids.

"Hey," someone said, clasping his shoulder. "Don't beat yourself up about it. It happens to all of us at some point. Clarisse is a freaking machine."

Despite the comforting words, Alex couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed them all.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Percy heaved himself over the lip of the pit, slumping on the ground and gasping for breath the moment he made it over. "Damn it, Travis," he wheezed. "I'm going to get you back for this."

He hadn't registered the feel of the tripwire on his foot when he was running. The trap sent him sprawling down a gigantic hole, previously covered by loose grass and twigs. The chance to win the game for his team was gone, he realized with a gradual falling of his stomach. He used Riptide to haul himself up the walls of the deep pit, which virtually took a lifetime. Percy groaned and threw the flag away, cursing his uselessness. _Good one, Percy. One chance to make an impression on the new guy and you blew it._ He knew that fire hydrant stunt last year had made him look like a jerk.

"Percy!" someone called. He looked up to see Annabeth and the others rushing towards him.

"Sorry, guys," he gasped, ashamed. "We couldn't win this time." Due to his bathing in the River Styx, his sweet perk of invulnerability had given whatever team he had been on a free ticket of victory. Apparently, his enemies had learned, and invincibility wasn't much use when he was stuck in a hole.

Some Hephaestus boys helped him up, and he dusted off. "Well, what's done is done." He smiled. "Who's up for dinner?"

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Alex initially found it strange when the campers would dump their food onto the central fire. When Percy explained the ritual of sacrifice to their heavenly parents, he thought it even stranger. The aroma was pleasant, however, and soon Alex couldn't complain.

He sat with Percy, who, being the only son of Poseidon in the camp, sat by himself. Alex once again had to ignore the looks being thrown at him, but with Percy hanging around him, they were in a considerably less concentration than earlier in the day. Alex stuck a fork in the pizza, grimacing as the oil seeped from the layers of cheese.

"Do you eat this every day?" he had to ask.

"Of course," Percy exclaimed, taking a hearty bite from his pepperoni pizza. "Ishh delishus!"

Alex rolled his eyes and chucked the pizza into the flames. There was a whoosh, but no other reaction occurred. Alex's confidence in his true parentage soared. Percy gauged the ordeal with narrowed eyes. "Weird. I could've sworn you were a demigod."

Alex grinned. "Well, sorry, but I'm human."

Percy shook his head. "I wouldn't jump to conclusions just yet. Chiron wants you for a reason, and not just because you're an exceptionally talented young guy. By the way, I heard about Clarisse ramming you earlier. No normal human could survive that."

Alex didn't know whether to feel indignant or proud. "Well, I _did_ survive a fall from orbit. It's either I'm a human with abnormal bone density or I'm a demigod. I'm hoping for the former."

Percy looked into the fire. "You know, being a demigod isn't all that bad."

Alex sighed. "For you and the others, yeah. But I know who my parents are. I know what they did, how they died. Nothing can change that."

Percy shrugged. "Fine."

Alex pushed those thoughts from his head as a group from the Apollo Cabin began to sing. He noticed Will among them, and he had to admit, he had never seen the guy look so happy. Plus, he had a pretty good voice. Alex didn't know a male could go that high. He joined in the cheers when they were finished.

Will caught Alex's wink and threw him the finger.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Nico landed in a heap in the shadow of the Big House.

He groaned, his temples throbbing. Shadow jumping really took a lot out of him, especially when he missed his daily visits to a McDonald's. Stomach growling, Nico got to his feet and dusted himself off. What he would do for a Happy Meal. Laughter and music floated on the twilight wind, and the son of Hades turned towards the direction of the mess hall. Something like loneliness stirred in his gut, but he long ago learned to treat it as a comfort. A cold feeling touched the nape of his neck, like the caress of a winter breeze.

"Your self-imposed exile will lead to regret," the amiable voice said, although the words were unsettling. "I've seen it happen too many times."

"Yeah, yeah," Nico snorted. "I've heard it from Percy too often; I don't need you to do the same."

He could hear the shrug in his aide's voice. "Suit yourself. I'm just warning you."

"Let's focus, alright?" he replied. "We need to get Alex, or at least try to convince him to come willingly. Father won't be pleased if I come back empty-handed." He faced the ghost. "That's where you come in."

The tall ghost shifted uncomfortably. He was near transparent, and the rising wind didn't help his visibility. "I can't directly influence him yet. I can give you tips, but that's all. That wasn't why I was sent."

"Right," Nico grumbled. "All I have to do is convince this seventeen-year-old former spy to journey with me to the Underworld, the normal human's equivalent to Hell."

"No." The ghost had gone very quiet. "Not Hell."

Nico fought down the chills. He was of the blood of a god, not some kid in his bed scared by a tapping on the window. Still, there were many things in this universe he did not understand, and what he didn't know terrified him. Nico readied himself. "Okay. So, what's the best way to approach him?"

"Straightforward. Alex doesn't like subtle manipulation. God knows how many times Blunt used it on him. Give him the sitrep, tell him the stakes, and wait if he agrees or not."

"That's good. I'm a straightforward kind of guy. That's me, Straightforward Nico. I can do this. I think I can, I think I can."

The ghost frowned. "Your preteen's coming out again."

"Shut up."

Nico ignored the dead man's laugh. He knew the jibe was meant to lighten the mood, but too much was at risk to get lax. He remembered the very frightened face of his father the other day. Things weren't going well in the Underworld, and although it never was a really cheerful place, things were getting much more nervous down there. Spirits were vanishing, monsters were slipping free from chains that had held them for centuries, and Tartarus itself was quaking periodically. Even Cerberus refused to play catch nowadays, deciding to slink into his hole and put his tail between his legs.

"It's now or never, Nico."

Nico nodded. "I know. Wish me luck."

"You'll do fine."

"Right."

Nico jogged down the hill, ready to confront perhaps the most important individual of the demigod world since the Bronze Age.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Percy slung his arm around Alex' shoulders. "So. In a ranking from one to ten, how would you place your first day in Camp Half-Blood?"

Alex chuckled. "Nine. I was going to say eight, but hearing Will go several octaves higher than any girl I've ever heard bumped it up one."

They laughed together. Percy kissed Annabeth goodnight while Alex said bye to the other campers who had joined them. The others were very friendly, and Alex was sure he was bound to make new friends by the end of the week. He had to admit, the place was a whole lot better than he expected.

There was the clanking of heavy metal as the Ares Cabin chortled and swaggered into their residence.

Well. A little better.

_At least the Stoll's haven't shown their cheeky mugs since the game_. Alex heard a pair of identical laughs ring out by the camp center, and he ducked into his cabin. The former spy fell on the bed, his body aching. "I really hate those Ares kids," he groaned.

Percy grinned and shook his head. "That's what all the newcomers say. They might be a bit bad-tempered like their father, but they're handy in a fight. They have a sense of honor, at least."

Honor. Something his list of deceased adversaries sorely lacked. If he was going to need help in the future, the Ares kids were indeed skilled fighters. Still, he had a debt to pay for losing that game, and he always repaid his debts. He was going to defeat Clarisse, sooner or later. "How was your first game?" he asked, the question popping into his head all of a sudden.

Percy sighed. "Scary. I didn't go all Rambo like you did. Clarisse confronted me by the creek, and I thought I was going to die. She had this real ugly spear, electrically powered and all that. If it wasn't for my Claiming, I might've been really hurt."

"Claiming?"

"It's when your godly parent recognizes you as their child. Poseidon claimed me, and I threw the whole creek in her face. Needless to say, she never really got on with me after that."

Alex had to snicker at the mental picture. "Wow. That must've been quite a day."

"Yeah, it was cool, but nowhere near as awesome as what you did to Slater and his posse. I mean, if I could learn that when I was fourteen, I would've signed up for MI6 in a heartbeat."

Alex sighed. MI6. "Everyone seems to know about that, huh? And no. You don't want to sign up with MI6 at fourteen."

Percy was quiet for a moment. "Yeah. I guess so."

There was a knock on the door, and Alex was grateful for the respite, although he had no idea who was on the other side of the door. It could've been Travis and Connor Stoll for all he cared, anything was better than talking about the organization that had robbed him of his childhood. Percy frowned and opened the door.

"Nico!" he cried, clearly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

Nico walked into the room. He was a skinny boy a few years younger than Alex, his skin so pale he could've passed off as a corpse. He wore a black graphic tee, with black skinny jeans and black combat boots. It was strange for Alex, considering the only individuals he had seen that were pale and in all black were Special Forces troopers who wore their armor too often. Nico laid his eyes on Alex, and the former spy saw fear flicker in those dark pupils.

"Alex Rider," Percy said, all smiles. "Meet Nico di Angelo, my little cousin. He's a son of Hades."

_The son of the death god. Of course. _Alex tried a smile and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Nico."

The boy tentatively shook his hand. Nico's hands were cold to the touch. "Nice to meet you too…Mr. Rider."

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

"Mr. Rider?" the ghost repeated exasperatedly. "He's still a kid, not some CEO."

Although no one else could hear his invisible aide, Nico wished the dead man would just shut up. Judging by his history, he _should've_ been a quiet, mild-mannered man. But then again, Alex Rider should've been a tortured soul, not the smiling blonde kid in front of him. Nico's stomach grumbled again.

"Did you go by a McDee's, yet?" Percy asked. The older guy knew almost all of his tendencies.

"Not yet, sadly," Nico mumbled. "You don't happen to have a double cheeseburger around here?"

The son of Poseidon chuckled. "I'll see what I can find." He looked inside the mini-refrigerator by his bed. "So, Nico, what brings you to Camp Half-Blood?"

Nico gulped. He felt a chill as the ghost leaned closer. "Don't say anything to the sea-god's child. He has a martyr-complex. If he hears anything about world-saving missions, he'll have some messianic urge to pack his bags and go along for the ride. We can't afford to lose him, if anything goes wrong. Just Alex will do."

"Uh, I was actually here to talk to Alex."

Percy nodded, throwing him a granola bar, which Nico tore into eagerly.

"Er. Alone, Percy."'

Percy and Alex were taken aback, Alex more so. The British boy looked to Percy, who shrugged after a while. "Nico's good people. You can talk to him."

The death-god's son gestured out the door, and Alex reluctantly complied. The night was just a little colder than it was minutes before, and he wondered if Nico's presence had anything to do with the drop in temperature. The boy looked unperturbed as he went round the cabin, leaning on its rear wall.

"If this isn't shady, I don't know what is," Alex muttered, looking around. The shadows seemed to cling around Nico, an observation that tickled his fight/flee nerves. Nerves that had been put through fire and agony by Wolf and the others at Breacon Beacons. He shifted into a defensive posture instinctively.

The ghost stood beside Nico, surprisingly pleased. "Look at him," he whispered into Nico's ear. "He's shifting his weight, preparing to run if danger comes. He's scared; you need to calm his nerves."

"I'm not here to hurt you, Alex," Nico blurted. "I swear it on the River Styx."

_River Sticks?_ "Right. I swear I'm not creeped out."

Nico fought the urge to roll his eyes and failed. "I'm serious. If I came to hurt you, you'd already be down."

The ghost chuckled, matching Alex's seamlessly. "A bit too James Bond now, aren't we?"

Nico blushed and tried a different approach. "Alex, things are happening down in the Underworld. Things that are freaking out my father. He wants you, for some reason, and I've been sent to bring you."

Alex's eyes widened. "No offense, chap, but I'm not going to the bloody Underworld to meet the god of the dead."

The ghost sighed. "You're sounding like a mafia hit man, Nico. Relax. Tell him the stakes, like I said."

Nico took a deep breath. "Alex, I know this might sound far-fetched to you, but I'm not lying. The world is in a position to be in a lot of danger, if things go downhill from here. This isn't regular MI6 stuff, Alex."

Alex made a frustrated noise. "Might as well shout it from the hilltops, should I? Who doesn't know about my involvement with those guys?"

"Alex…" Nico sighed. "If there was anything else I could do, trust me, I would do it. But I have to obey my father's orders. He wants you down there for some reason, but I promise you, it's nothing bad. I'll have you back by sunrise."

"Now, that's a lie and you know it," the ghost hissed. "Hades is bound to keep him for days to fulfill his agenda. You're giving him false hope!"

"I'm saving his life!" Nico snapped.

Alex frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing," Nico said hastily. He had almost given his advisor away. The ghost had gone silent, thankfully. "Nothing. Now, do you want to go with me or not?"

"Want to? Definitely not. But I can tell you're not lying about this end of the world talk." Alex inhaled nervously, visibly weary. "You said by sunrise?"

Nico swallowed. "Yeah." He wouldn't be able to see the sun from the Underworld, and Nico grimly hoped Hades would work him hard enough to lose his track of time. "Sunrise, got it."

"You're playing him, and I don't like it," the dead man growled. "You didn't have to lie to him, Nico."

Nico mentally shook his head. It was the only way to get him to go. Alex looked himself down. "Am I fine the way I am right now?"

The orange camp shirt and jeans wasn't ideal apparel for the Underworld, but Nico was sure he could get him something from the armory, although it would be obviously more dark and ugly-looking. Nico nodded. "You're good. Here, take my hand."

Alex had to repress a smile. "Of course, my Prince Charming."

The ghost chuckled, much to Nico's chagrin. "He hasn't changed at all," the spirit muttered.

The moment Alex' finger's touched Nico's, there was a swirl of shadows, and no trace of their presence behind the Poseidon Cabin could be found.

/XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX\

Alex was surprised to land on top of a smooth divan. He saw Nico stumbling across an oriental rug, his pallor considerably more pale. Alex helped him up before he crashed into the blazing fireplace in front of him. "What was that?" Alex asked, resisting the urge to vomit. It was like Apparating in the Harry Potter books, but sans the bearded wizard mentors. He took a quick look around, and the Underworld looked surprisingly cozier than he imagined. Nico coughed horribly, and Alex began to think he was going to die.

"He's not going to die, if that's what you're thinking," a bored voice said from behind him.

Hades was smaller than Alex expected, but he dared not say it aloud. A stark black beard covered his chin, and glittering black eyes inspected Alex with a curious gaze. He wore somewhat the same clothes as Nico, but with far more ACDC apparel. The former spy simply did not know what to think in the presence of the Greek god of the dead.

"Go on," Hades waved. "Lavish me with praise. Kiss my feet. Is that not what you mortals do in the face of such majesty?"

Alex did not miss the sarcasm, but he still didn't like the god's attitude. Hades saw his eyes harden, and he laughed. "But, of course, you aren't just any mortal, are you?" He turned to Nico. "Good job, my boy."

Nico nodded, wiping his chin from some stray dribble. Apparently he was used to such short approval. Alex glared at Hades, crossing his arms across his chest. "I'm here, like you asked. Percy is probably worried sick about me and is no doubt alerting the camp, so I'd be fast if I were you."

Hades guffawed once again, to Alex's displeasure. "You threaten me? Oh, Great Gaea, you're hilarious. I knew you were going to be hard-headed, but like _this_? I underestimated you."

"Like many others," Alex replied drily. This elicited a cold look in Hades eyes, something that sent a shiver up his spine. Hades smiled, his eyes blank and dark.

"Of course. I've heard of your escapades, Alex. They're awe-inspiring, much like the tales of old. Nowadays we get boring old demigods who just do silly recreational activities in that infernal camp."

"Demigods who just happened to save your butt," Alex snapped.

Nico blanched. The ghost grinned. Hades glared.

"Quite right," the god of the dead sniffed, slightly miffed. "Although I also had a part in that battle. But, you wouldn't know that, would you?"

"I honestly don't care. Just tell me what you want me for."

Hades nodded. "Fine. The other gods wanted this to be done later, but damn them, I say. Follow me."

Alex looked to Nico, who waved dismissively. An invitation from Hades was always something to be taken with caution, but he already accepted one, so might as well do another. He followed the diminutive death god down a dark corridor, the walls as black as night. Alex thought he could hear quiet whispering around him. He furrowed his brow and reached out to touch the wall.

Hades and Nico's hands flashed forward simultaneously and caught Alex's wrist. "Don't touch the walls," Hades warned.

Father and son seemed a little shocked that they just did something in common, and they avoided each other's gaze for the duration of the trip. Alex stayed as close to the center of the hall as possible, ignoring the urgent whispers telling him to touch the walls. He didn't know whether it was his imagination or not, but he could've sword a familiar voice was pressing him onwards, a hand on his shoulder.

But, no. He had been dead for years.

They finally entered out into a large pavilion, a stone courtyard that hung on the edge of a gigantic rock wall. Thunder rumbled in the distance, and bright lightning struck amidst dark clouds. "This is impossible," Alex breathed. "We're several miles underground." It looked as if he stood on a cliff side, overlooking a dark sea.

"You think so like a mortal, boy," Hades sneered. "Surely you must know that what is impossible in mankind's eyes is very possible for us. The area you see before you was made in the Time Before, when your race had not yet been molded from mud."

"I'm a mortal," Alex gritted. "My parents were human."

"Of course they were. John and Helen Rider, died of a plane crash when you were but a little boy."

Alex froze. His heart rate accelerated, like it always did when his past was brought up. He resisted the urge to punch the god in the face. "What do you want from me?"

"You see, Alex," Hades said, having to raise his own voice as the storm increased. Wind blew the death god's long hair crazily. "Somewhere beneath that tossed up sea is Tartarus. No one can get in, no one can get out except monsters. It's that simple. However, things are stirring up that should most definitely not be stirring up. I went down for a quick look and did not like what I saw. My guards have been slaughtered, and I myself had to fight my way through to get back to the surface. Or below the surface. Oh, you get the point."

"What does this have to do with me?"

Hades smiled and pushed him off the edge.

Alex fell down, screaming before he could curse at the god. Wind tore and ripped into him, and his own hollers were drowned out by the howling of the storm. He hit water, and a multitude of things happened that would confuse him for a long time.

It wasn't water, first of all. He was weightless, yes, but he didn't feel wet. Plus, he could breathe. As he sunk below the surface, something in him awoke that had been asleep all his life, so dormant that he never noticed it before. A great peace enveloped him, calming his heart and closing his eyes.

Strangely enough, he felt at home.

There a low whispering in the depths of the not-ocean, drawing him closer, and he smiled and swam deeper, desperate to find that warm embrace of calm.

Then, a hand gripped him, and he fell onto hard stone once more.

"Ha!" Hades said triumphantly. "I can't wait to see the look on that big-headed buffoon's face when he hears what I've done."

"You could've killed him, father!" Nico sounded oddly frightened for a life he had just met half an hour before.

"Ah, you see, there's the genius in my plan! He _didn't_ die. There are only a few individuals who can survive the pure essence of Aether, me included. Now, one has been added to the list. Alex Rider. I can finally confirm his identity. He is most definitely a-!"

"I still disagree with your method," a new voice growled, cutting in. "Let's leave that last part for later, shall we?" New, yes, but not unfamiliar. Alex turned where he laid, eyes wide.

He still looked the same. It had been years, but the image of the man's face was forever ingrained in Alex's mind. The man who had raised him for fourteen years stood before him, dressed in presumably the clothes he had died in. The short brown hair, the quick smile, the trusting eyes. No, it was a face not easily forgotten.

"Uncle?"

**AN: Rushed, I know! Hope it leaves you wanting more, however. I'll be leaving town tomorrow, so unfortunately I won't be able to write during that time. I'll be back August 23, and hopefully I'll be brimming with ideas for many of my stories. As always, please R&R (I appreciate the recent ones!), and yes, I did mention the names of some of the One Direction members in Chapter 2 of this story. Sue me.**


	9. Fire and Blood

**AN: It's been months, I know. Real busy, though, and I never had the time to return to this story until now. It's rushed, I'm sorry, but it's all I got. Hope you enjoy!**

* * *

><p><strong>Gunpoint, Colorado, USA<strong>

**Four Years Ago**

_Alright. One more._

Alex blinked away the drops of sweat from his brow and reached out to grip one more rock. He gritted his teeth and pulled himself up, his whole body quivering with tension. With one final roar of determination, Alex rolled over the edge of the cliff and onto solid ground.

He lay back, gasping for breath. His equipment lay strewn around him, and he could've sworn he dropped his water bottle during the climb.

"Need water?"

"_Yes._"

"Get up."

Alex cursed under his breath (Jack, thankfully, was hundreds of miles away) and got up shakily. Ian was standing calmly by the cliff edge, twirling a bottle of glistening cold water. "Come and get it."

_Damn. _Alex sighed, shrugged off his harness, and loosened himself up. The water bottle was fixated in his gaze. Ian continued to twirl it, smirking as he did. _Cheeky bastard_.

Alex rushed forward, hands reaching for the bottle. Ian whirled, stepping out of Alex's range. He moved behind the boy and tapped his head lightly with the water. "Come on, Alex. You're going to have to do better than that."

Alex felt a twinge of embarrassment and indignation. He didn't care if he had to push Ian over the edge to do it, but he was going to get that bottle. He feinted right, at the last moment moving left and grasping for the water. Ian chuckled and moved out of the way once more. "Too slow."

Alex snarled and drew his leg back for a roundhouse. Ian anticipated the attack and dodged the kick. He grabbed Alex's outstretched foot and pulled. Alex yelped and fell on his back. Pain exploded on his spine, and he groaned. Ian exhaled noisily, knelt down, unscrewed the cap of the bottle, and promptly splashed the contents of the container into his nephew's face.

Alex yelped as the freezing water touched his skin. He scrambled back, wiping his cheeks and cursing. The boy could feel Ian's amused smirk on him like a laser beam. He absolutely _hated_ it when his uncle did that. It made him feel…toyed with.

Alex finished drying himself and jumped to his feet, preparing to charge Ian once more. The tall man rolled his eyes and tossed the bottle to a surprised Alex. "Have a drink. You're earned it."

Alex kept his eyes on his older relative and brought the bottle to his lips. He greedily drank the water; he couldn't help but risk another arse-kicking and close his eyes at the feel of the cool liquid running down his throat. The boy finished with a relieved sigh. "Man, that's good."

Ian grinned and took out another cold bottle from his pack and sipped prudently. "If it wasn't for that feint earlier you probably wouldn't have gotten it until the trip back."

Alex grimaced at the notion of going back down the cliff without a drop of water. _I guess the lessons really were paying off_. He threw the empty bottle at his uncle, who let it smack against his chest. Alex joined him at the cliff edge, enjoying the cool breeze on his face.

"So, Ian," he began, eyes roving across the lush landscape of Colorado. The hand of winter was already beginning to settle on the arid ground, but it proved to be a beautiful sight nonetheless. The majestic mountain range in the distance was a sight for sore eyes, and Alex tingled with anticipation. He could already picture himself skiing down the virgin snow during the holidays. "Why'd you bring me here?"

Ian didn't answer for a while, instead choosing to take in the sights in silence. Alex didn't complain; he still needed a slight breather from the short tussle.

"It's really big," Ian finally said. "The world, that is. Even now this region seems so big, so overwhelming, yet this isn't even a fraction of what this Earth has to offer. Thousands upon thousands of miles, and yet the human body is so pitiably small. We're dwarfed by this cliff, which is a midget compared to other geographical formations out there."

"Your point?" Ian was getting awfully philosophical.

He smiled. "Yet for all the distances and sizes, everything has its uniform and sometimes simple role. The snow gathers in the sky, falls, sits, and eventually melts in the wake of spring. Flowers pollinate and reproduce. Everything has a part to play in this grand scheme of things." Ian stretched out his arm, gesturing at the beauty around them. "Everything has a purpose, Alex. From the sand beneath your feet to the stars in the sky. If one fails that task, then there are massive consequences. Someday, you're going to discover that purpose. Not many believe in destiny, Alex, but I do. Somewhat. I believe that we were meant for _something_. You, Alex Rider, son of my brother, were meant for great things. Anything, no matter how small or seemingly insignificant, has the power to change the world."

Alex regarded his words carefully, nodding slowly.

"I understand."

Ian brightened. "Do you?"

"Yes. In order for me to alter the course of the world, I must be given the appropriate tools to do so. Say, maybe a _car_, or the latest gaming console-"

Ian smacked him upside the head. "You're hopeless, kid. Now, get your arse down that cliff before I kick you over the edge."

Alex smiled. "Yes, sir!"

His uncle's eyes sparkled with something Alex would only understand until it was much too late. "That's my nephew."

**ooOOoo**

The memory was a good one. That Christmas holiday in Gunpoint, Colorado proved to be very interesting, a hint of Ian's true occupation shining through. Of course, Alex would never discover his uncle's MI6 past until it was literally brought in front of his face by a strict old man and his assistant. Now, with that familiar face contorting in confusion not two steps away, emotions buried inside of him threatened to explode.

"Uncle?" Ian frowned. "You never called me that. I hate that word."

"You're dead," Alex managed to croak. "I saw them put you in the ground." _I saw your car ridden with bullet holes. I saw Jack crying in the middle of the night when she thought I was asleep_.

Ian nodded solemnly. "I still am. My physical aspect, at least."

"You're a ghost?"

Ian's lips twitched. "A spirit. Slight difference."

Alex took a deep breath. Here was his uncle, right in front of him. Why? He didn't know. How? No clue. All Alex knew was that the reason why his life was the way it was stood a handbreadth away. Close enough to reach out and touch. Or step back and punch. He wrestled with the two options. Considering the fact that he was a spirit, however, both would probably end up having him fall on his forehead.

"Oh, how I love family reunions," Hades interjected. His tone was snide."However, I think it best that we take this lovely conversation back inside. Maybe I can ask the old lady to whip up some hot tea-"

"Shut up."

Hades eyes bulged. The words stopped in his throat, choking him and producing an odd gurgle. If Nico looked any paler, he might as well be lumped in a coffin and sent to the undertaker. The god of the dead trembled visibly for a second, his face growing livid. "What did you say to me, boy?" He spat out the last word.

Alex faced him. He didn't know why the deity seemed so intimidating earlier. All he saw was a short old man in desperate need of a shave and a sense of style. "You heard me, you smelly old git. I told you to shut up. I'm in the bloody Underworld, the people I love are thousands of miles away, my friends have no clue where I am, and I'm having a conversation with my dead uncle. I absolutely do not need your sarcastic and bratty tone at the moment. So, therefore, take your gloating and expectations and shove them up your fanny. And get a haircut while you're at it. You look like a chimpanzee."

The death god and his son looked like they were undergoing simultaneous seizures. Hades' face turned a horrifying dark shade of purple. His fists clenched, and the ground beneath their feet began to shake. An unnerving light shone in the god's eyes. "That…" he began, his voice tremulous. "…was a mistake."

The world grew darker, and a frostbitten hand clutched Alex's heart. Hades bared his teeth in a bestial snarl and raised his fist. Something dark and _living_ writhed in his palm, and whatever it was, Alex had a feeling he didn't want it to touch him.

_Uh oh. Think before you fucking speak, Alex._

Alex closed his eyes as the god of the dead roared and brought his hand down and aimed for the boy's head…

…only to be stopped by the calm hand of Ian Rider.

Hades froze at his touch. The dead spy was gripping the Olympian's wrist with no trouble at all. Ian's translucent face was a sea of calm, but something dangerous burned in his eyes and hardened his jaw. "You know the deal, Hades."

Hades calmed at that reminder. He shook off the other man's hand, rubbing his wrist gingerly. Alex took a deep breath. _Good. I'm not going to die_. The death god looked at him, and somehow Alex got the impression that Hades wouldn't mind at all if that happened. Ian stepped away from him and approached Alex. He looked stern but slightly amused.

"Despite Hades' rashness, this doesn't excuse you. It is a crime in the Underworld to speak in such a way to its overlord. I know you're confused right now, but all Lord Hades was suggesting was to continue our talk in the safety of his living room. This isn't an ideal place to stay, at the moment."

Thunder rumbled in the distance as if in response. Ian gestured to the exit, and Hades stalked away down the pavilion. Nico quietly followed, shoulders hunched. Alex and Ian followed them down the creepy tunnel and once again entered the exotic lounge. Hades plumped down on his scarlet sofa and inspected his fingernails. Nico stood by the fireplace, suddenly interested in a portrait of Hades presumably painted by Cerberus' shaggy rear. Alex stuck his hands in his pocket, unsure of what to say next. _I missed you so much, Ian! _No, that sounded too needy. _Good time to show up, _uncle. _Can't wait to tell you all the shit I went through before I even turned sixteen. Oh, and Jack cried for days after you died. _That was a bit harsh, though, even for him.

Ian rolled his eyes. "We'd like to be alone, thank you very much."

Hades made a noise in his throat and stormed away, waving two skeleton guards from their post. He exited into a side room, his son close behind. The slamming of the door made the two relax.

Ian smiled. "Good. Now that we're alone-"

Alex punched him in the jaw.

His uncle went reeling. He tripped over a footrest and hit his head on the edge of an Ottoman, cursing like a sailor. Ian was sprawled ungracefully on the rug, nursing his jaw. "Christ! What was that for?"

Alex stepped back, pleased. Ever since he saw Ian stop Hades from laying a divine smackdown on him, he wanted to see if he'd feel his punch. Plus, the bastard deserved it. "That was for dying."

Ian scowled. "Well, _sorry_. I'm not impervious to bullets, need I remind you."

"You died. MI6 found me and recruited me."

Ian's frown deepened. "I know. Cold as a corpse, Blunt is. Surprised they didn't nab you sooner."

His words seemed to escape through a funnel in Alex's mind. "Jack was heartbroken. She cried for days on end. You left us with a lie."

Ian's face fell. Alex had never seen him look so defeated. "I know. I know. I know sorry isn't enough, but that's all I can give you. It was tough, but you soldiered through it in the end, just like I knew you could-"

"Jack is dead, Ian. She's dead. Killed by a lunatic."

At that moment, his resolve crumbled. The fiery explosion bloomed ever brightly in his mind's eye, and nothing could stop the agonized groan that escaped his lips. He felt his knees give way under him, and he fell. He could hear Ian whispering to him through his sobs, but they seemed muted, like they were heard through earmuffs. All his years of trying to contain that guilt and torment that stained his soul finally burst open in the company of the man whose death started it all. And there was Jack, in the center of it all. Her constant encouragement through his missions and heartbreaks, that one rock he could always rely on in a sea of deception and faceless agents. Dead. Burnt to a crisp. All because he'd been too slow, too _stupid_, to stop her from coming to his rescue. Jesus. He might as well have detonated the car.

"Alex…" Ian whispered. He was holding him and stroking his hair. He was crying himself, silent tears shining in the firelight. His uncle had never displayed so much emotion before. The touch felt strange, alien. But it was comforting, as much as Alex wanted to deny it. "Alex, it's not your fault. She died _for _you, not by your hand."

"And that makes it any better?" His words felt as if he had to force it out of his throat. Gasps followed every word, and the sane part of him felt like a child in primary school.

"Better than what you've worked it up to be." Ian said. "We've all had to make sacrifices before. It comes with the terrain."

"Being a spy?" Alex spat.

"No. Being human."

They were quiet for an eternal moment. The silence mourned as uncle held nephew, both trying to wade through a swamp of conflicting emotion. Alex's sobs began to subside, and soon numbness replaced his gnawing guilt.

"What was it like?" he asked. "When my father and mother died?"

He heard Ian give a sharp intake of breath. After a silence, "Hard. It was hard. I loved Helen like a little sister, and John…well. He was family."

"It was Ash, you know." Alex told him. "Ash gave them away."

Ian nodded. "I suspected as much. He never was the same after John's death. Whenever it came up in conversation, he'd look all haunted. Should've been a clue, but I put it off until it was much too late."

"He's dead, too. Ben shot him. He was working for Scorpia."

"I know."

"Yassen is dead. I saw him die."

Alex expected some celebration on his uncle's part, but all he got was a sad shake of his head. "Damn shame. If that hardass was going to die, some pathetic maniac like Damien Cray didn't deserve to pull the trigger."

Alex frowned. "He killed you, Ian."

Ian chuckled. "He did, didn't he? Resourceful bastard. Wasn't expecting it until I felt those bullets rip into me. Ruined my car, as well."

"Ian. He killed you."

"Why is that surprising? In our kind of business, there's a mutual assurance of murder. Kill or be killed. Survival of the fittest. I don't hate a man for doing his job. Especially not a man like Yassen Gregorovich. Don't think I didn't read those case files Blunt threw in the classified archives about John's Scorpia assignment. And my brother told me everything." He smiled ruefully. "Damn shame."

"Why did you become a spy, Ian?" Alex gazed into the fireplace. The wood was beginning to disappear, consumed by the flame. It was strange that the wood had been a part of something old and growing and _living_, only to be devoured by the flames. But the heat supplied warmth, warmth for other lives to blossom and rest, comforted by the sacrifice of that ancient limb. Fire. Destructive but nurturing, a giver and taker of life. But it didn't have a choice in that matter; it wasn't sentient or organic. But people like Ian and Yassen did. The decision when to pull a trigger or sink a blade into another man's gut until his life ebbed out from under him. Suddenly, he imagined feeling cold gunmetal press against his palm, and the tremors that shook his body as he shot Julius Grief dead.

Ian grunted, pulling Alex out of his reverie. "Many reasons. My brother was one, first of all, and my father had high hopes for the both of us. I was always trying to outdo him, you know. I had top marks, but I could never reach my brother's level. He was on another plane of performance; his marksmanship was excellent, his hand-to-hand combat unparalleled. Serving with the Parachute Regiment at Aldershot helped. John was born for MI6, I realized after his death. But I think that was why he, and your mother, died by it."

Alex blinked away tears. "Destiny."

Ian's voice grew small. "Yes. Live by the sword, die by the sword. There must always be compensation. Newton's third law and all that. Ash, Yassen and I were no exception."

So many important people in Alex's life were dead. People he should've grown up with, celebrated birthdays, held their hand as they died peaceful deaths. Maybe, if life had offered him a different course, he would've entered the Special Operations division of MI6 as well, with his father and his uncle helping him along. He would've excelled in their ranks, been as great as John and Ian. Jack would be there, always by his shoulder. And his mother. Alex fought back another sob. The mother he never knew. She would've been his rock.

But things had gone very differently. His family was dead. Now, he had another family, and a girl he was certain he'd give his life for. The thought of the Pleasures sent strength surging into Alex's limbs. He sighed and stood, extricating himself from his uncle's steady embrace. Ian got up as well, dusting himself off nonchalantly. It was as if it never happened.

Alex preferred it that way.

"I can't change the past," he began. "As much as I want to. You're dead, everyone's dead, and I'm still here. But the world that I thought I knew is a lie. Again. Now there are gods and demigods and monsters that make the enemies I've faced before look like a bunch of primary schoolers squabbling over a toy. But as much as I would love to dig a hole and hide, there are people that I care about. People that I will protect with every ounce of power I have at my disposal." He stepped forward.

"To do that, Ian, I need to know what I am."

The devourer cackled in the fireplace. The spirit of his uncle shifted, back straightening. Certainty permeated his being, and for a moment his translucency faded, and Ian Rider stood proudly in solid bearing, the man who had carried dozens of missions with perfection and success in stark contrast to the darkness around him.

"That, Alex my nephew, I will surely explain."

Ian rushed forward faster than Alex could blink. Ice froze his blood, and Alex could swear his heart had stopped beating. Then the world sunk into nothingness around him, and he was sent swirling down a vortex of color and pain, sinking down down down until the void once again welcomed him into its embrace…

**ooOOoo**

"Hey, Nico! I actually found a double cheeseburger! Tyson must've left it the last time he crashed here, but I'm pretty sure it's still edible." Percy stopped and sniffed the damp sandwich. "I think."

The night greeted him with only silence. Percy frowned. "Nico? Alex? Helllooo? Are you still there?"

_That's strange. They were here just two minutes ago_. Percy went round the Poseidon Cabin and checked there. Nothing. Worry gnawed at his gut. Absurd explanations hollered for acceptance in his mind, but he fought to keep calm. _They couldn't have run too far off. Nico's a gangly kid, and Alex isn't the type to go frolicking with strangers._ At least he thought so. There was still so much to the other boy he didn't know about, like the heart-wrenching sadness that lurked in his eyes whenever his past was brought to bear.

Percy jogged down the cabin way, tossing the sandwich into a trash bin by the fountain. A few kids were still hanging out, and he asked them if he'd seen the two. All he got were emphatic "no's" and even a few lewd accusations. For those he threw fountain water at their faces and left a few gallons in their pants for good measure. After a tense ten minutes of questioning and searching, the son of Poseidon was beginning to get the feeling something was terribly wrong.

And that was when, at that very moment, the sound of a war horn shrilled in the distance.

Percy bolted for the Big House, knocking shocked campers out of the way. "Excuse me! Coming through! Freaking horn just made me piss myself! Out of the way!" He crossed the distance in astonishing speed, trekking over the hill and leaping on the rickety porch of Chiron's headquarters. Annabeth and Will appeared right beside him, looking like they had just gotten out of bed. Before Percy could stop and admire the way Annabeth looked in her nightgown under the light of the porch lamp, Will shook Percy by the shoulders and screamed in his face.

_"What in Helios' shiny ass is going on!?"_

Percy wrinkled his nose at the Apollo Cabin Head's bed breath and pushed him away. "What do you think I'm here for, Solace? To give Dionysus bottles of champagne?"

Will frowned in genuine confusion. "I thought that was Josh's job…" he muttered.

Annabeth glared at the two and promptly stormed inside the Big House, leaving the door swinging behind her. Percy and Will followed to find Chiron, Dionysus, and a few other startled campers, including Clarisse, gathered around the living room, centered on something dark. Annabeth folded her arms across her chest.

"What's going on?" she asked. She didn't bother to hide her irritation, even in the presence of a god.

Chiron looked grave. "An emissary is here."

He trotted off to the side, revealing a tall figure in a midnight-black cloak. Percy felt a cold chill run down his spine, and he took a step back. The stranger cast back his hood. The skin of his face was stretched tight over the bone, emaciated and skeletal. He was deathly pale, more so than even Nico. Tufts of greasy black hair dotted his skull, like patches of brush on a dry prairie. His eyes were completely white, a glassy, dull color the color of rotten egg whites. He smiled, revealing yellow canines.

"Greetings, son of Poseidon," he greeted, his voice a raspy hiss. "You are finally here."

"Who are you?" Percy almost reached for Riptide, but stopped when he saw a glint of metal in the folds of the visitor's cloak. The man, or whatever he was, noticed, and grinned revoltingly once more. He parted his robes to reveal a beautifully crafted horn, spiraled and decorated with metal as black as a beetle's shell. Percy's throat went dry. "You. You're the one who blew the horn."

"Yes. Allow me to introduce myself." He bowed, his dead eyes never leaving Percy's. "I am Keuthonymus, The One Named in the Depths. I have been chosen by my great master to be the emissary to our hated enemy, the demigods of Camp Half-Blood." The demon had to spit the name of the camp out, as if it was toxic poison to even speak of it. "I have blown the horn to announce our arrival."

"How in Hades did you get in here?" Percy growled. "The boundary should've kept things like you _out_."

Dionysus burped from the corner. "That would be me, Jackson."

Percy blinked. "And why, director, would you do something as idiotic as that?"

Dionysus giggled, and Chiron threw Percy a stern glance. "Mr. Jackson! Watch your tongue! The Camp Director was only acting under Olympian courtesy, even with such vile company as this. If our enemy would be so thoughtful to formally announce their attack, Dionysus is obligated to receive this news with proper etiquette."

_What a bunch of BS._ Percy breathed through his nose, fuming at the sight of the skeleton-man's smug grin. And he wasn't particularly pleased at the way the bastard would continuously leer at Annabeth.

"Well then. Spit it out, Keuthy. We don't have all night."

Keuthonymus sneered at the nickname, but took out a crinkly scroll from his robes and prattled on. "Under the direction of Lord Ahriman, Sultan of the Red Sands, I formally declare a state of war between His Lordship's armies and the upstart infants at Camp Half-Blood. There will be no terms of surrender; we aim for the complete and total annihilation of the demigod race and their divine parents. Preliminary attacks will commence Sunday of next week."

The demon sniffed, rolled the scroll, stuck it in his cloak, and smiled. "The Horn of Chaos will be blown once more on the aforementioned date. By then, all of our forces will be prepared, the boundary will be destroyed, and there will be nothing you blubbering fools can do but watch and die as we pillage your home and ruin everything you hold dear-"

He stopped, voice hitching in his throat. His eyes bulged from his stark sockets, and a fine red mist seeped from his mouth. Confusion marred his ugly features. "Wha…?" he began.

Clarisse twisted Maimer violently, sending its blade deeper into Keuthonymus' chest. The demon's body twitched pathetically under her strong grip, flailing like a rag doll. Clarisse grunted as she forced the spear so deep that the tip poked out through the emissary's sternum. "I don't like your voice," she said plainly. "It's annoying. And you talk too much. Go home."

Clarisse wrenched her weapon out of the envoy, a dark liquid oozing from the wound. Keuthonymus howled and contorted violently on the floor, clutching at the hole in his chest. _"YOU WILL DIE FOR THIS!"_ he screamed. His body was already beginning to turn to dust. _"YOU WILL ALL DIE! THE ANCIENTS WILL COME AND DESTROY YOUR GODS, AND THEY WILL at last…reign…for all eternity…"_

His corpse faded into oblivion. Clarisse set her spear back on her shield strap and dusted her hands off. "What do we do know, chief?" she asked.

Chiron was too busy gawking at the space on the rug Keuthonymus had previously occupied. His jaw was working up and down, but all that came out was a steady wheeze. "Protocol…by the gods…whatever happened to protocol?"

Will patted his shoulder awkwardly. "S'okay, Chiron. We'll get that carpet vacuumed in no time."

Chiron sighed. "Sometimes, Mr. Solace, I have to wonder why your intellectual capacity fails in comparison to your marksmanship with a bow-and-arrow. Or your ability to fully digest the seriousness of a situation. Must be your father's foolish idealism that gets sent down his descendants like a cancerous gene. And I say this with all the love I can muster, child."

"Touché, boss man-horse. Touché."

Percy groaned, palming his face. This day had just gotten a whole lot more complicated.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I know how you feel, Percy. I know how you feel. Couldn't resist a face-palm myself after re-reading it. Needless to say, not my best work, and terribly short considering how long you guys waited for an update. Once again, I'm sorry. But, I do have a life, and I can't devote countless hours to Benigno Numine (as much as I'd like to). This chapter was mostly to emphasize Alex's emotional distress, but I doubt it carried that through sufficiently. *sigh*. It'll do for now. Man, I'm literally itching to write the huge battle scenes I have planned, but filler chapters are such a bore :(. <strong>

**Anyways, this chapter must've spawned some nasty questions, but hold on. Everything will be revealed in due time. I have a plan. I think. Well. We'll see. Thanks for all these reviews (they're the only thing that's keeping me going), and I genuinely love you guys. As always, please R&R, and feel free to PM whenever you'd like.**


	10. The Sword and the Shield

**AN: It's been eight months, I've heard. Eight long months of me not updating. I'm really sorry about that, and I hope this rushed chapter makes up for it. Longer post at the end.**

* * *

><p><em><strong><span>THE SWORD AND THE SHIELD<span>**_

"What is your name?"

The voice was in Alex's head. He tried to blink but his eyes weren't there. He couldn't feel them, couldn't feel his face or the rest of his body. All around him was darkness. It was black and suffocating and Alex wanted to scream but his mouth was somewhere else. He began to cry but he remembered his absent eyes. He was deaf, blind, lame, and utterly alone.

Except for the voice.

The voice was familiar. He knew it was familiar because when he heard it he felt safe. Relieved, even. He knew that the voice was there to save him from the darkness and take him home, take him home to London and his friends and Jack Starbright, who would welcome him with a motherly smile and embrace him like…

Jack Starbright.

Jack Starbright was dead.

Alex's speech returned. "Ian," he said, giving a name to the mysterious voice. "Ian Rider. My…uncle."

"You didn't answer me. What is your name?"

"My name. My name is…"

_What is my name?_ The thought came to him idly, as if he was wondering what he should get for lunch. But soon the question grew more urgent, like his life depended on him knowing. For all he knew, it did. His heart began to pound, and each harried beat brought his body to life and existence. Bones and muscles knit together, and he could move. But he was floating in that abysmal blackness and he could not see anything.

_What is my name?_

_ What is my bloody name?_

_ WHAT IS MY NAME?_

His heart stopped.

Text on an ID. Black letters on an annual. Words from his loved ones' lips. Whispers from his dying enemies. They all said the same thing.

"Alex," he gasped. "Alex Rider."

Memories hit him with astounding, almost physical force.

This time, he managed to scream.

"Focus," came the voice. "Focus, Alex. Breathe, breathe. You know your name."

Alex curled into a ball, wishing for the pain to go away. It seared into him like a scalpel dipped in molten lava, burning his essence and scorching his soul. Alex wept.

"What is your name?"

"I'm…" he said in between sobs. "I'm…I'm Alex Rider."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Alex Rider!" he roared, suddenly furious at his uncle's voice. "Didn't you hear me?"

"Who are you?"

"I'm…it hurts."

"I know it hurts."

"Make it stop."

"You know I can't."

"How do I make it stop?"

"Tell me who you are."

Alex's head hurt. He clutched his skull with both hands and pressed tightly. He grabbed his long blond hair and twisted, hoping that the pain would inspire an answer. Alex looked up, thinking perhaps Heaven would exist in the abyss and deign to grant him his desires. Suddenly, pictures of what seemed to be his past parachuted from the darkness, like falling stars in the night sky. They were full of light and color, and they were heartbreakingly wonderful. His sobs receding, he tried to grab them, but they floated away mischievously. He frowned and tried again, but every time they danced away like dandelions in the breeze.

"Some in the business would call these little things clues," Ian's voice said, this time with a hint of amusement.

Alex managed to grab one. It was nearly intangible, the edges light and silvery against his palm. It was a group photo, with him and several other boys in football gear posing ridiculously on a stretch of green. The goofy smiles on their faces meant that they'd just won a game. He recognized one of them as Tom Harris. Tom was making a duck face and sticking his rear end out comically. Tom, his best friend.

"I'm a boy from Chelsea, London," Alex whispered. The memory of that game returned to him, and the smile that grew on his face matched the one in the photo. "I love football and tennis. I am a black belt in karate. I enjoy scuba diving, abseiling, mountain climbing, rifle shooting and snowboarding. I go to Brookland Comprehensive School and Tom Harris is my best friend."

"You're getting closer. Who are you?"

Before Alex could snap at him, another picture floated into view. Alex snatched it out of the darkness, because the image was dear to him. It showed a woman who was now dead holding Alex to her side as they stood in front of a monument in Italy. Jack's smile nearly drove Alex to tears again.

"I am a boy from Chelsea, London who loved Jack Starbright, and in turn she loved me. She was the mother I never had. She cared for me and in the end she died for it. She taught me to stay true to myself. She will always be in my heart."

"Good, Alex. Very good. Who are you?"

The pictures were falling steadily now, filling the darkness with their marvelous light. As they fell, Alex felt reassured. Each one that dropped into view contributed to his being, solidifying who he was and always will be. One of them caught his eye.

"I am a boy from Chelsea, London with an uncle named Ian Rider." Sadness overwhelmed him for some odd reason. "Ian Rider taught me all I know. He taught me how to be a man. Ian Rider was killed by Yassen Gregorovich when I was fourteen. His death caused MI6 to recruit me. He is the reason I am what I am."

Ian's voice took on a measure of immense grief. "Who are you?"

Alex caught another picture. It was a large building with the name of Royal & General Bank on the front. It was square, austere, and plain. But Alex knew it was so much more than that.

"I am a boy from Chelsea, London who is also a spy. A man named Alan Blunt and a woman named Mrs. Jones took me under their wing and sent me all around the world. I have defeated madmen and toppled tyrants. I have saved the world from their evil many times." Another memory almost closed Alex's throat. "I am a murderer. I shot and killed Julius Grief, a boy who looked just like me. I watched as Abdul-Aziz Al-Rahim was crushed to death by a pile of salt."

"Who are you?"

The next picture was of a handsome man, tall and fair, standing by a beautiful woman in the city square. The woman, the most beautiful woman Alex had ever seen, was several months pregnant and happy for it. Alex knew who they were.

"I am a boy from Chelsea, London who is a son of John and Helen Rider. John was the greatest agent of the Secret Intelligence Service to have ever lived. He and his wife, my mother, were killed in a plane accident as revenge by a woman whose love was spurned. My godfather, Ash, helped engineer their murder."

"…Who are you?"

The picture this time was of a picturesque family standing on a hill overlooking the Golden Great Bridge. Alex stood awkwardly by them, the out-of-place blonde boy. Alex, although he'd seen this picture a thousand times, thought Sabina looked beautiful as ever.

"I am a boy from Chelsea, London who was adopted into the Pleasure family. I love them for what they have sacrificed for me, and I am in love with Sabina Pleasure. I will gladly die for them."

"Who are you?"

Alex instinctively grabbed for another picture, but any that came nearby passed through his fingers like mist. He clutched at them frantically, panic widening his eyes and sending his heart a flurry.

"Who are you?"

"Give me time!" Alex snapped. "I need more time!"

"Time is a luxury you cannot afford. Not when the fate of the world relies on you understanding your heritage. Think, Alex."

"I'm a boy from Chelsea, London!" Alex almost whined. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that his past should be so muddled in confusion or that he should be kept in the dark. He knew who he was, where he came from, what he was all about.

But yet…

There was something at the periphery of his mind that he knew was important but he couldn't seem to grasp. It was as insubstantial as the pictures floating around him. He almost cursed in frustration, but he realized that his uncle was there, and he wouldn't approve.

But his uncle was dead. Why was he worrying about misconduct around a bleeding, bloody corpse-!

_Focus. Breathe, breathe._

"I…don't…know."

"Who are you?"

"I don't know. I need help."

And just like that Ian Rider was standing in front of him, hands in his pockets. His face, although incredibly sorrowful, bore a small smile. "Ah. Now you understand."

Alex unconsciously brushed his face. He felt dampness on his cheeks as he did so, and he frowned. He was still crying. "Why don't I know who I am?"

Ian shook his head. "You are all that you said you are, Alex. You _are _a boy from Chelsea, London. You _are _a spy. You _are _the son of John and Helen. But you are so much more than that. I am here to help push you into the realm of comprehension."

Alex scowled. "I've waited long enough."

Ian laughed. "You most certainly have." He gazed out into the darkness with a thoughtful expression on his face. "Walk with me, Alex."

Ian turned around and began to walk away. Alex stood from his kneeling position and followed him, relieved that he could use his legs. They walked in silence, and Alex took the time to try to figure out where he was. His memories were still falling, and the light they gave out revealed pockets of his surroundings. They were striding across a marble floor, and they seemed to be in a spacious hall. The ceiling was wide and vast, and great white pillars supported the structure. It looked grand, ancient, and very familiar.

"You recognize this place, don't you?" Ian said.

"We're in the British Museum, aren't we? You took me here when I was ten."

He remembered standing in awe at the beautiful portraits and sculptures and traversing the huge museum with utter amazement. It was a highlight of his life. His former life, when everything was understandable and the world was fair.

"The Duveen Gallery, to be specific. Among other things, it houses the Elgin Marbles, a collection of classical Greek marble sculptures that were originally a part of the Parthenon. They were an integral part of Scorpia's plan to kill you, Alex. Well, to be more accurate, _you_ were an integral part in the plan to return the Elgin Marbles to Greece."

Alex did recall hearing something about that, but his last mission for MI6 was so traumatizing that he'd shut away most of the details in the darker recesses of his mind. He shrugged. "Well, I'm still alive."

Ian chuckled. "And the Marbles remain in Great Britain. Scorpia is a disgrace because of you. A powerful one, but a disgrace nonetheless. You caused the greatest criminal organization in recent history to fall into shambles."

Alex felt uncomfortable at the praise. Especially when it came from his uncle. "They'll come back. They always do. Anyway, why have you brought me here?"

Ian led him down the magnificent hall in silence once more. Their footsteps echoed as they walked. His uncle stopped at one of the great, white marble sculptures, and the moment he did it changed. Alex took a step back, but Ian lifted a hand. "Watch," he said.

The sculpture was of a muscular man fighting a centaur against a slab of marble. The half-man half-horse being reminded Alex of Chiron, the teacher at Camp Half-Blood. His stomach lurching, Alex realized what this was all about. The marble morphed like liquid, flowing and swirling like pale eddies.

The sculpture became a bust of a lean, almost gaunt man. He had a short beard and defined cheekbones, and although it was marble, the eyes held a semblance of contempt in them. The top half of a robe was clasped on the shoulder.

"This is Kronos," Ian said somberly. "He is a Titan of ages long past, an ancient being from Before. His are the mantles of Fate, Harvest, and Justice. He also has some power over Time. He wields a wicked scythe, which he used to castrate his father Uranus."

Alex grimaced. "Ugh. I know the story."

"Of course you do. You're a learned boy. But you know precious little."

Alex frowned. "Enlighten me."

Ian continued. "Kronos was the youngest and most powerful offspring of Uranus, Sky Father, and Gaea, the Earth Mother. Aided by his mother, he deposed his father and ruled over the other Titans as king of the First Ages. He was mighty but cruel. And you have something in common."

Alex's frown deepened. "What do you mean?"

Ian ignored him and went on to the next sculpture. This one changed like the first, but this time it became something much more recognizable.

"That's Percy!" Alex cried. The bust was a near if not perfect copy of the demigod's face, right down to the tiny, almost unnoticeable scars. He looked proud and noble in this form, nothing like the formidable but fun-loving guy he met in San Francisco.

"Why him?" Alex asked. His confusion was only increasing as they went on. "Why Percy?"

Ian jutted his chin at the bust. "Percy is a demigod. The child of a god and mortal. With this unique parentage, he has superhuman abilities: he's faster, stronger, and more durable than mortals. With Poseidon being his father, he can manipulate water and communicate with horses and fish. He's one of the greatest of his kind to ever live."

Alex fought back the urge to roll his eyes. "That's great. But what does he have to do with me?"

"Do you know the tale of Theseus, Alex?"

Alex crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. "I think so. He was the bloke with the string and the labyrinth, right? The one who killed the Minotaur."

Ian nodded in approval. "Good on you. He was a demigod from long ago, Percy's brother, but separated by great gulfs of time. Do you know how he was conceived, Alex? Before he was a hero?"

Alex blanched. "Much like everyone else, I'd say."

Ian smiled. "No. Let me explain: There once was a Greek king named Aegeus. After many years of searching, he finally found a suitable bride in the form of Aethra, the daughter of King Pittheus at Troezen. They lay together on their wedding night, and thus Theseus came to be."

Alex held up his hand. "Hold on there. Theseus was a demigod. Unless either Aegeus or Aethra were divine, that doesn't make any sense."

Ian's smile took on a sense of pride. "Very good. Well, here's the catch: later, after they slept together, Aethra waded through the sea to the island of Sphairia. There, she met with Poseidon. And there, they lay together –"

"Wait just a minute!" Alex yelled. "That's…that's just…"

"So very Greek, I know," Ian said. "Believe it or not, such was the case for many a demigod back in the day. Double paternity was a common trait in these warriors."

Alex, despite being slightly disturbed, urged Ian to go on.

"So when Theseus was born, he had a combination of divine and mortal characteristics. More so than your average demigod. His father went away, and he was raised by his mother until he grew up to be a fine young man. His father, the mortal Aegeus, had hidden his sandals and sword under a huge rock. Once Theseus was of age, he would move the rock and claim his inheritance. So, as an adult, Theseus moved the rock, retrieved the materials, and traveled to his father. The rest is history."

Alex would've regarded it as myth rather than history until recently. Things were still so confusing it hurt. Perturbed, he pressed his uncle. "So what was the purpose of that story?"

"You tell me."

Alex almost punched Ian right then and there, but he held back. There would be plenty of time for that after he figured out what the hell he was. "Okay. The only real thing you told me was that it was possible to have two fathers. A double paternity, like you said. Theseus was both the son of Aegeus and Poseidon, and he received the respective traits from both. But I still…"

Alex trailed off, his stomach falling.

_Oh, God._

_ Oh, _gods.

"No." It came out as a weak croak. Alex's legs trembled. "No, that can't be. It's impossible."

Ian sighed. "I'm so sorry, Alex."

Alex rounded on him. "Fuck that!" he hissed. He jabbed his finger at his uncle's chest. "You lied to me! I'm your nephew, and you lied to me!"

Ian stayed calm. "I did no such thing."

"I'm not a demigod!" Alex spat. "Fuck that! My father is John effing Rider, and that's that!"

Ian didn't say anything, which infuriated Alex even more.

"My mother was not a…a…"

"Whore?"

Alex let out a wordless roar and punched Ian. His uncle took it full on the chin, dropping like a loaded stone. Alex, snarling like a wounded beast, straddled him, battering him with wild punches with everything he had. Ian made no effort to fight back.

The fact that his uncle was just lying there taking his hits sobered Alex's fury. He stopped, eyes blurry and out of breath. Ian was rubbing his jaw, and the beginnings of a black eye were showing up. He glared sternly at his nephew.

"You done?"

Alex swallowed back his shame and stood up, clenched fists shaking. Ian got to his feet and dusted himself off. He turned back to Alex, and to the boy's surprise, he looked none the worse for wear. The split lip from a second ago had vanished.

"Perks of being a spirit," Ian explained. "I get to decide what I look like. Still hurt, though."

Alex ignored him. "Take what you said back."

"What did I say?"

"You called her a…whore."

Ian sighed. "No, I didn't. I just said what you were thinking. Saying it and calling her one are two entirely different things."

Alex bit his lip. "Then who was she? How the hell am I…me?"

Ian nodded. "Now, we get to it.

The gallery disappeared as a rush of darkness descended on the pair. Alex's heart leapt to his throat, but Ian raised his palm. "Don't be afraid. You won't be harmed."

It was true. There was no all-encompassing numbness as the abysmal dark settled over them, and the crushing sense of absoluteness was fortunately absent. But his uncle's words did little to ease his discomfort. There was, however, a feeling of apprehension deeply rooted in him that he couldn't shake off. Was he about to find about who he was?

Finally? After days of utter confusion?

Ian was suddenly by his side. He felt warm, not like a cold spirit or ghost. It could've been like he was standing right next to him as they waited in line for a pastry. Ian was real and raw and _there_, and his presence was enough to dispel Alex's anxiety.

"Are you ready, Alex?"

Alex took a deep breath. "I am."

"Good."

Ian put up an outstretched hand, and the dark world exploded into blinding light.

Alex gasped, covering his face with his hands, but Ian clutched his shoulder. "Look," he said. "You must look. Everything you're about to see is essential to what you are. Look."

Alex dropped his arms and complied.

They were not in the abyss, but in a great menagerie of light and color. They stood above what seemed to be all of reality. Galaxies swirled lazily below them, giving off such majesty that tears prickled Alex's vision. Burning balls of gas died in blooms of massive energy, warping space and time and even sucking matter into its death throes. But even as they collapsed under the weight of their own supernovas, stars were born. Nebulas of cosmic dust floated in the heavens like clouds of fiery dawn, trailing the darkness with a sweltering loveliness that belied anything Alex had ever seen. Stars that still lived twinkled in the stretch of beautiful infinity, sentinels, silent and sure.

Alex realized that he'd been holding his breath as Everything That Was enfolded around him.

"This is the Universe," said Ian. "Or a fraction of it. It's growing, you see. Always has been. It will grow and grow until the end of Time itself, if there is such a thing."

"It's…it's…" Alex gasped.

"Beyond words," Ian cut in. "There's no need to confine it so. It cannot be defined by mere tongue, or our feeble minds. It is infinitely vast and absolutely uncontrollable. Chaotic, you could say."

"It's amazing," Alex said, eyes glued to the wonders before him. "But, again, what does this mean?"

"What does it mean?" Ian said, almost bewildered. "Why, Alex, you're looking at the cot of the gods."

Alex blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"This is where divinity is birthed. Where dear Kronos breathed his first, and more importantly, where your heritage can be found."

"You'll have to explain."

Ian waved a hand, and time reversed. Galaxies broke apart, planets crumbled into space dust, stars collapsed into nothingness, and the circus of bright, hazy lights became a chaotic muddle of indistinguishable colors, like a toddler's painting. But, as Alex peered closer, there seemed to be an order to the chaos. There was Dark, and there was Light. Soft Beauties and Furious Tempests. The wondrous complexity of it all caused Alex's head to ache.

"Now I warn you not to look too long," Ian cautioned. "It might reduce you into a gibbering wreck."

"How are you doing this?" Alex asked with his eyes shut. He massaged his temples to ease the pain.

"I'm merely presenting my own opinion on what occurred eons ago," he said. "But the effort requires subtle inputs of power, and that is what makes it hurt so bloody much."

"Just get to the point," Alex grumbled.

"Long ago, before there was Kronos or Poseidon or any god for that matter, there existed great Powers. Sprung from the birth of the universe, created at the heart of the unimaginable energy necessary to initiate such an occurrence, they simple were. They were absolute, yet their very existence threatened to bend space and time and undo Creation. It is the greatest paradox and strongest glue that holds reality together."

Alex nodded, understanding some of what his crazy uncle was saying.

"These Powers were the primordial deities, mighty beings that were the ancestors of the gods. Chaos was their parent, genderless and ever-shifting and the first of what was to come. Creation rests under the Serpent's Shadow, the gods say. From that Void came Gaia, Uranus, Tartarus, Eros, Pontus, the Ourea, Hydros, Chronos, Erebus, and…"

"Aether…" Alex whispered.

He didn't know why he said that. He didn't even know what it was. But the memory of a dark place in the bowels of the Earth somehow surfaced in the mess of his mind, the memory of a pale god and his pale son, and the mysterious waters below. Hades had called it the Aether, and Alex had survived its potency.

Ian was uncharacteristically silent. "Yes," he finally said. "Aether. If Erebus is the Power of Darkness and Night, Aether is Light and Day. He is the shield between the cosmos, what protects Creation from the evils of stormy Tartarus and the weight of angry Uranus. And all around them, always watching, is Chaos."

Alex closed his eyes. "Aether. I survived it back in the Underworld." He swallowed, his throat dry. "Why is that?"

"I think you know the answer to that."

When he opened his eyes, tears spilled from it. "But…that's just impossible."

Ian sighed. "Think about it. You survived a fall from orbit, Alex. Even in an Escape Capsule, that shouldn't be possible. Not for a boy your age. And you withstood the substance of Aether. Not just withstood it, if I recall correctly, but swam in it like a bloody goldfish in a tank."

Alex shook his head. "No. You're wrong…"

"Think about what I've explained to you. Back in the Museum, Kronos' past and the tale of Theseus. The start of Creation and the primordial deities. Aether. Always Aether."

Alex began to shake. "So my mother…she was really…"

"No! You mustn't believe that. Your parents were in love, Alex, and they were never unfaithful. But they were a part of this divine scheme long before they were an idea in their parents' heads. The Aether planted it's essence in Helen while she was pregnant. It began as a seed in your soul and it _grew. _It has grown for your whole life, enabling you to be extraordinary, and more importantly, a light in other people's lives. It is only now coming to fruition at the apex of your maturity. It was _all _planned, Alex. You are a part of it. This is your destiny."

Alex finally gave up. He didn't fight anymore; there was no need. He felt numb inside. He expected to feel furious when he found out about his past, but all he felt was…nothing. Absolutely nothing.

And that scared him.

"Who are you?"

Alex answered without hesitation.

"I am a boy from Chelsea, London. I enjoy the things I do because you taught them to me in preparation for what was to come. I am a spy, recruited by the coldest man I've ever known. I've defeated lunatics and helped save the world at the cost of many brave men and women. I am a murderer, the killer of Julius Grief and Razim. I will never forgive MI6 for what they did to me. I…"

Alex's throat closed.

Ian took his shoulder once more. "Don't be afraid."

"I…I am a boy from Chelsea, London. But I am also a demigod. My father is John Rider, who truly loved Helen Rider with all his heart. But before I was born a primordial deity called the Aether placed a part of its essence inside of me."

"Who are you?"

"I am a son of the Aether, the Light and the Day. The Sword and the Shield. I am the Protector of Creation." The words were not his own, the voice too deep, stentorian, and terrifying. He felt warm, and then he felt hot. Soon, he felt like the heat of a thousand summers burned inside of him.

"But above all," he said, above the sizzle of his own brilliant skin. "I am Alex Rider."

The light from within slowly dimmed, and Alex breathed. The air felt warm and familiar. He was standing in the lounge of Hades' home, the fireplace still cackling merrily in the hearth. They had returned. It looked the same, but it felt different, alien. It was then Alex realized that nothing in the room was out of place. That is, except for him.

"That is who I am."

Alex was exhausted. Despite what he'd discovered about himself, all he could think about was Sabina's warm smile and a cozy bed waiting for him in San Francisco.

Ian smiled, and a tear trickled from one eye down his cheek. For some reason, Alex never got used to the sight of his stoic uncle shedding tears. It felt unnatural.

"Good. You understand."

Alex tried to think up of something to say. Something to do after this mind-numbing realization. There was a myriad of possibilities, most of which involved the premature destruction of Hades' expensive furniture, but in the end, given the current atmosphere, he settled for one thing.

"Yay?"

Ian cracked a smile. "That's the spirit. Now, there's still a lot of things to explain, but it'll be easier since you know what you are. First off, there's the issue of –"

Before Ian could say anything more, the side door burst open. Nico bustled into the room, a large section of his black T-shirt missing, like a claw had torn it open. His torso was pale and wiry beneath. Nico was about to speak, but he closed his mouth. He narrowed his eyes at Ian and Alex, came to his own mental conclusion, and nodded, satisfied.

"You'd better hurry," the son of the death god said, coughing. "Something's happened."

Ian frowned, annoyed. "Can't it wait? We're a little occupied here, as you just deduced."

Nico shrugged. He looked unperturbed, but the way he was constantly shifting his weight from his right to his left told Alex that something was amiss. "Depends."

"What is it, then?"

Nico looked down at his feet. "Well…" he said. "While you guys were doing your thing, my dad and I went to check on the incoming traffic. Things were getting a bit hectic down there. Midas was AWOL, and the spirits were howling for admittance. That sort of thing just doesn't happen. Cerberus, who's normally keeping them in line, was hiding in his doghouse, so Dad went in to check on him."

Nico took a breath. "Cerberus didn't like that. So, I need your help."

"The suspense is killing me, Nico," Alex sighed. "Help with what?"

"You see…" Nico was fidgeting like crazy. "Cerberus ate my dad, and I need you to help me get him out, because if you don't, the spirits will flood into the Underworld and crush us all."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh, God, this was so rushed. And very short compared to my other chapters. I really hope you're satisfied with what Alex is. It's been my plan since before I started writing this story, so I'm sorry he didn't turn out to be what you thought he would be. If you're confused, I totally get it. If you'd like me to do some editing, I'll do it. I just wanted to get this updated after so long. Well, like always, please R&amp;R, even if you hated it.<strong>


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